


Rockabye

by GoldenEyedFury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Black Markets, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Child Neglect, Dark, Dark Magic, Explicit Language, F/M, First born for sale, Full Shift Werewolves, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Grey Magic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidfic, Magic is a bit different, Minor Character Death, No Beta, Threats of Violence, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-09-25 01:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEyedFury/pseuds/GoldenEyedFury
Summary: It was supposed to be an easy night. Meet a scumbag couple at the local park, trade a potion for their first born, and head home. But no, nothing in Hermione's life is easy. Especially when Vampires get involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Its a KidFic! Which, I mean, really shouldn't be much of a surprise. All I seem to write are kidfics. This one at least shouldn't hurt you; not like Prowler hurts you. This was originally supposed to be one of Harmony & Co's 2k gift fics, but I had a HUGE event happen and its been a few weeks but I'm still reeling from it. I needed time to process everything, and while I'm not yet 100% I will be okay. I hope you all enjoy this fic, I had a lot of fun writing it.

** **

**Chapter 1**

Hermione leaned against the side of her beat up chevy and scowled at her latest acquisition. The car seat didn’t flee wildly into the night. She clearly needed to work on her scowl. She huffed and tightened her ponytail. This was the last time she left the house without braiding her hair. Sure, she loved the natural curls and general wildness, and leaving it down gave her a sense of freedom- and made her feel unleashed. But installing a carseat with loose hair was a grade A pain in the arse. Not that the heavy humidity was helping. 

The wind picked up, blowing through her jumper like it wasn’t even there. She shivered and hunched her shoulders. Wishing that she’d brought her leather jacket. Of all the nights to trust the weatherman; she had to choose the one time June felt like wearing fall colors. Luckily she had a spare sweater in the backseat. Hunching her shoulders against the chill she grumbled under her breath. 

Hermione hated this part. Waiting alone, or nearly alone, in the dark. All of these deals took place at night and oddly enough, the same creepy playground. Carousel Park was overgrown, abandoned and most likely haunted. Shrouded in mist, swings creaking ominously in the wind. She was uncomfortably reminded of a horror movie. Nonetheless she was a strong, independent witch who could boil the blood in an advisories veins. She didn’t need back up or company. No matter how creepy it was. 

She needed a bigger car, maybe an SUV with extra storage for potions ingredients and foldable seats to easily move bodies. Not that she was moving bodies. Plural. It was one time, and even though she scrubbed the trunk with bleach and several industrial cleaners, plus scorgifying it for good measure, it still wasn’t _ quite _the same. She’d upped her rates after that. 

Being a witch for hire was, at times, a dirty job. However she received excellent reviews, and as far as she knew, the ghouls had yet to return. Of course it may have helped that she liquefied one, and cut the other to pieces. 

Those were the jobs she typically left to her boyfriend. Harry didn’t mind getting his paws dirty, and taking on a pack of ghouls would be a typical tuesday night. Hermione liked to focus on the lowest of the low. The deals made in dark corners, with contracts signed in blood and reeking of fairytale malice. 

For the right price Hermione could make nearly anything possible. She had started with charms, and simple banishings. Idiots conjuring demons and panicking when their hastily drawn circles failed. The odd haunting or two. And on one memorable occasion, locating a lost senior; that one she did pro bono. No one deserved to be wandering the streets lost and confused.

As her prowess spread a more sinister clientele began to reach out. The first time she was approached about a first born, she had scoffed. Who in their right mind would wager their _ child?! _She learned though, that they weren’t in their right mind. And their greed knew no bounds. 

Ammorentia bought her a witchling. Dealings with children, when signed in blood, always granted magic to the child. Once the baby, only a few weeks old was in her grasp. Literally. She sterilized the father with a quick and dirty curse; obliviating him afterwards. The father would never know why he couldn’t sire other children. But he would always carry the memory of his first born and hopefully, the guilt. Hermione tried not to think about the mother’s absence. Instead she took her bouncing baby boy home. 

Four years later, she was waiting to collect yet another firstborn. Her third “wished away child” as Harry called them. Rescues, she liked to think. None of the parents walked away scott free. Yes they got what they wanted, but as the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. With a healthy dose of karma on the side.

Hermione checked her watch, and tapped a booted toe on the cracked asphalt. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and buy a van. With the way business was booming, her van upgrades loomed dangerously close. 

She could smell rain, and a quick glance upward confirmed her suspicions. A storm was brewing. How long before it broke was anyone's guess, but she couldn’t leave the car seat out to suffer. No matter how tempting. She growled at it one last time for good measure. 

“I’m gonna need a bigger car,” Hermione grumbled as she wrestled a third car seat into place. “This is getting ridiculous. Why are you so hard to install?!” 

The car seat, remarkably, didn’t respond. Its job was to keep children safe, not pander to annoyed installers. Besides it didn’t have a mouth or vocal chords; even if it had a witty retort, it wouldn’t be able to say it. Alas the non sentient car seat could do nothing but take the abuse being spewed at it.

“Oh-ho I’m a fancy car seat! Made with aluminum, I’ll last five years longer than the average plastic car seat. But only if you can install me because I’m an idiotic piece of shit!” 

Yelling was getting her nowhere but it was better than setting the car seat on fire. At least marginally. Her chevy definitely needed an upgrade. In theory she should be able to fit three kids side by side in the back. However rear facing two of them left little room for the forward facing third. 

“It’s a good thing I’m short,” she snarled. Inching her seat forward and finally, _ finally _snapping the car seat in place.

Sliding between the front seats she crawled out of the car, landing in a heap on the cool ground. Climbing to her feet she stretched and groaned. Definitely time to get a bigger vehicle. Maybe even a fifteen passenger van. All that space for the witchlings and both herself and Harry… 

Her fingers twitched, and a small blue and white box appeared in her hand. She turned the box over in her hands, ignoring the graphic photos, and large warnings printed on it. With a heavy sigh Hermione pushed it open, and pulled out a lighter and cigarette.

Palming the lighter, she turned the cigarette over in her fingers as she shoved the pack into a back pocket. Three days. Hermione had made it three days without a smoke. Last time she’d made it a solid week. And maybe, she thought sourly, next time she’d get even farther. 

She flicked the sparkwheel and watched with grim satisfaction as the flame grew. Warmth kissed her thumb. She brought the lighter toward her face, and just as it was about to ignite the cigarette- it went out. Hermione flicked it again and got only a flash of fire. Narrowing her eyes she flexed her aura. It flared around her, invisible to all but herself. 

_ Ping. _

Like echolocation it rocketed back to her, leaving a man-shaped shadow in her mind's eye. A couple yards away; too close for comfort.

“Ronald Billius Weasley. I have thrice named you and true named you. Show yourself or be gone!” Power rolled off her in waves and thunder rumbled overhead. “I don’t have time for your spooky vampiric bullshite.”

Laughter, heavy and dark rolled on her left. The shadows lifted and Ron appeared. Slouching and grinning. He pointed upward and said, “Thunders a nice touch. Going to add it to your repertoire?”

Hermione shrugged and flicked the sparkwheel yet again. She hadn’t planned the thunder, but there was no way in hell she’d ever admit it to him. Or anyone else for that matter.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quitting?” He wiggled his fingers at her, snuffing the flame. 

She could kill him. No one would miss him. Well, she certainly wouldn’t. Baring her teeth, Hermione smiled and wiggled her fingers, and unlit cigarette back at him. 

Ron rocked backward, caught himself and glowered. Pulling shadows to swirl around his feet and tease the edges of his leather trench coat, he tried to pass of his reaction as deliberate. 

Hermione scoffed, “Why are you even here? We aren’t friends.”

“I have a job for you.” He ran his hands along the open front of his coat and tugged it firmly over his shoulders. Making it flap. 

“I’m on a bloody job already. Why else would I be out in this,” she gestured toward the roiling sky, and impending downfall. “It’s not because I like the rain, Ronald.” 

“Yeah I can tell that you’re made of sugar, Hermione.”

“Aw, you think I’m sweet?” Hermione tilted her head and batted her eyes, adopting the most innocent expression she could muster. She thought she looked cute and maybe, if pushed, kind. She didn’t. At most she looked slightly less homicidal, perhaps even closer to manslaughter. 

It took far more willpower than Ron would ever admit, not to take a step backward. He grinned, careful not to show his fangs. The park was empty but that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched. Ron had learned a long time ago not to underestimate Hermione. It had taken a year for the curse to wear off, and he still found his feet tapping to an unknown beat occasionally. 

“Does your _ boyfriend _know about these little jobs?” He sneered, venom lacing his tone. “Just what does he do when you’re out servicing the paying public?”

“Pfft!,” Hermione rolled her eyes and stashed the cigarette back in its pack. The lighter she kept out, maybe if she was lucky, Ron would get close enough for her to set him on fire. “Does my father know that your stalking me?” 

Ron blanched, his already pale face turning waxy. 

“No?” She dropped a shoulder and leaned forward, drawing the word out and shaking her head slightly. “Do you know what happened to the last member of his seethe that crossed me?” 

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. Pivoting on her heel she faced him, both hands at her sides, fingers curled but not quite fisted. “Let’s not kid ourselves. Of course you do. Every single vampire in this city knows. He belongs to me now, bound to my lineage and wards forevermore. Would you like to join him?” 

Eyes bleeding red Ron snarled. Baring the full extent of his fangs. “One day your Daddy won’t be around to protect you. What will you do then little girl, when all that you love crumbles and not even your stone guardians can save you?” 

Hermione chuckled, low and cold. Drawing her aura around her like a cloak, snapping the elastic that bound her hair. Magic teasing the strands so that they flowed against the wind.

“One day Ron, one day very soon, _ you _won’t have the shroud of my father’s protection lingering over you. And on that day I will come for you. There is no where you could hide, no distance you could run, that would stop me. So bark at me all you like. But if you want to play with the big dogs, stop pissing like a puppy.”

Ron strode forward. Hermione leveled her wand at him. Ron hadn’t even seen her draw it. He paused, less than a car length from her. 

“I came here tonight as a gesture of goodwill.”

“Ha!” She snapped, “As if vampires possessed such a thing.”

He shrugged, at once calm and clear eyed. As if he hadn’t been seconds away from snapping. Tugging on his coat, he settled it across his shoulders and looked down his nose. 

“A jobs a job, and you can’t afford to be too picky anymore. Goodnight Hermione, do let the bedbugs bite.” Spinning in place, he pulled the shadows around him and vanished. 

“Fuck you and your cryptic bullshit!” Hermione spread her aura out. Double checking his disappearance. Only once she was sure that he was gone, did she let the dread pool in her belly. _ Harry! _

When Hermione began dealing with the magical underground, she made money hand over fist. The Black Market, an actual market place not some figurative ideal, was always open. With plenty of people willing to buy potions, favors, and spells. Which, naturally, lead her to buying a very cushy mansion out in the country. Perfect for stone guardians to patrol without maiming the mailman. Again. 

But when her clientele switched their methods of payment, she risked losing it all. Harry stepped up, and moved in. A move that Hermione, four years later, still wasn’t sure that Harry hadn’t planned. Taking high stakes jobs in order to pad their pockets and keep Hermione’s(and now his) home afloat. He was their main source of income. 

She darted back to her car, heart pounding in her ears. Her fingers barely brushed the handle when headlights lit up the street. Her clients had finally arrived.

~oOo~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lights blinked red and Hermione snapped out of her inner speculation. She wasn't a licensed professional and really shouldn't be dwelling on her family dynamics. Bells tolled and a mechanical arm lowered; of course she'd get stuck waiting for the midnight train. Nevermind that it was an hour late, and had a definitive stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Than you to everyone who has left such wonderful comments!

**Chapter 2**

A bottle of liquid luck, and an eternity later, Hermione buckled her youngest child into her seat. The baby girl was roughly five months old with a full head of dark hair. She was gorgeous and Hermione was already in love. On any normal night, after a deal she’d take the baby home and start the bonding process. Rename her if needed, add her to the wards and pour every single healing potion she had into them. If her parents were willing to sell her, then chances are they weren’t looking after her properly to begin with. 

But tonight, she was going to take little Riley on an adventure. Somewhere, Harry was in trouble. And there was no way in hell she was going to leave him hanging. Tucking a thin pink blanket around Riley, Hermione double checked the car seat straps. Snug, with the shoulder straps positioned just right. They were ready to roll. 

Settling into the driver’s seat, Hermione dumped a bag of crystals onto the pre-carved console. They sprang apart, each sinking into a rune. Pushing a bit of magic into the circle she watched it light up, first white and then blue. She closed her eyes and chanted under her breath, smiling a little when Riley babbled nonsense in the back. 

Hermione held Harry clearly in her mind, his broad shoulders, wolfish grin, thick beard, green eyes. Lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The way he tasted when he kissed her, how softly his fingers traced over her thigh when he was deep in thought. 

The little circle glowed purple, strands of magic twisting within it until an arrow formed. It spun in a slow circle and pointed North - North-west. Hermione started the chevy, and above her the levee broke. Rain pounded the earth hard enough to bounce upon impact. The magic held, and Hermione grinned. Come Hell or high water, she was going to find him.

Lightning flashed, thunder following immediately, shaking the car. Hermione flicked the turn signal, and tried to see oncoming traffic through the downpour. No headlights, just the over head street and traffic lights. Completing her turn, she punched the gas, rocketing through mostly empty streets. She skirted around downtown. The cops always set up check stops, and she was in enough of a hurry without adding a ticket to the mix. She could fool red light cameras and photo radar with a simple charm on her license plate, but officers badges were spelled against magical tampering. 

Since she did not inherit her father's charming personality, it was best to avoid the police altogether. Especially with her, soon to be adopted, child in the back seat. No one trusted a witch with a baby. Rightfully so in Hermione's case, but that was beside the point! Until Riley was fully adopted by blood and magic, a simple charm would prove that she was not with her rightful parents. Then Hermione would be getting far more than a ticket. Nothing like having _ the _district attorney for a Step-Mother. 

She tapped the breaks as a green light switched immediately to red. No yellow for this one. The chevy’s breaks, as always were impeccable. Not many vehicles could stop on a dime. Green again she flowed through the intersection. 

There was little Hermione hated more than one of her father's lectures. He would wax poetic about coming to her aid, and how despite the fact that she was twenty six years old, she still needed her daddy. Then he’d move onto how much he wished she had taken after him instead of her mother. And how Hermione should really reconsider his offer of becoming an undead, there was always room for her in his Seethe, she should only ask.

Lightning forked overhead, turning the clouds purple for a moment. The arrow turned, and Hermione turned with it. Her blinker beeping quietly. True North now, What was Harry doing in the industrial complex? 

Having her father fix her mistakes was not a habit she wanted to get into. Especially since it could easily be avoided. If only her father could also be easily avoided. But no, he rather enjoyed breaking and entering. Sure she could key the wards to reject him, but ever since her mother went crazy and bonded with a demon, her father was the only parent she had left. Not the only family though. Her half brother was surprisingly much easier to get along with in adulthood. What with them no longer living together and vying for attention. 

Hermione maintains that had they been actual twins instead of Irish twins, she would have strangled him in the womb. As it was, the urge to beat him bloody may have faded, but her general bloodlust remained. Ironic considering that _ he _ was the vampire. Poor, sweet and innocent Draco. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. 

Lights blinked red and Hermione snapped out of her inner speculation. She wasn't a licensed professional and really shouldn't be dwelling on her family dynamics. Bells tolled and a mechanical arm lowered; of course she'd get stuck waiting for the midnight train. Nevermind that it was an hour late, and had a definitive stop. 

Shifting the car into park, Hermione twisted in her seat, peering into the back. She really ought to get another mirror so he didn't risk putting her back out in order to check on the kiddlets. Riley slept peacefully. The most angelic expression on her little face. Both of her tiny hands were over her head and one foot had escaped the blanket. 

The rain let up before the mechanical arms did. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the storm was moving on. A shame because Hermione could have used the rain to clean up the mess she was going to make. The purple arrow began to flash. She was close. 

A chain link gate sagged, its posts mangled and chain severed. Something had torn straight through it. Clearly she was in the right place. Hermione switched her headlights off and turned into a rundown parking lot. How nice of the warehouse contractors to set up parking outside of the gates. She parked on the farthest side of the lot, cancelled the locating spell, and plucked her crystals out of the consol. Slipping them back into their pouch, she leaned to the left and put the leather pouch into a beaded bag on her hip. 

She caught a bit of flack for the beaded bag. Harry liked to call it a fanny pack, and she liked to curse his hair blue for it. The bag rested on her hip, secured to her belt to prevent theft. And the subsequent murder of said theif. Really it was for everyone's protection. Featherlight and with an undetectable extension charm woven into the very threads, the bag was a treasure trove of potions, weaponized gadgets, a few leisure books, and basically everything needed to survive an apocalypse. Hermione didn’t expect an apocalypse, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if everyone knew it was coming.

She shoved her entire arm into the bag and pulled out a marble statue. Two lions, locked in eternal battle, fit into the palm of her hand. Hermione turned on the radio, switched to an easy listening station and turned the volume up a bit. Loud enough to be heard, but not wake up the baby. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Hermione exited the chevy and set the lion statue on the gravelly asphalt. Tapping the base with her wand, it grew until both lions were life sized. 

“Ghost, Shadow, wake up.” She tapped each lion on their snarling maws with her wand.

As always, Shadow woke first. The smooth marble softening into fur, the curls of his black mane fell flat. His eyes glowed deep orange. Flexing his paws he disengaged from his brothers hold. Ghost dropped to all fours seconds later, shaking his grey mane out. Both lions butted heads, weaving around each other happily. It wasn’t often Hermione called upon them. 

Hermione opened the back door and pointed at Riley. “Protect her at all costs. No one, human or otherwise so much as looks at this baby. Do you understand?” 

The lions took turns leaning into the chevy to take a peek at their tiny charge. Rubbing their cheeks gently against the side of the car seat. She rolled down the window and shut the door. 

“Good boys. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Hopefully. If she wakes up, one of you come get me. No roaring!” She poked Shadow in the forehead, “Yes that means you.” 

Shadow chuffed and flicked his ears back. Hermione grinned and disillusioned both the chevy and the lions. Rolling up the sleeves of her jumper, she strode across the parking lot, through the mangled gate. Straight into a war zone. 

Hermione paused mid step. Looking back at the gate she could see a slight shimmer in the air. It went up into a dome and covered the entire warehouse. Subtle, not Harry’s work. He tended to favor bugs. Big and Ugly works that left his enemies maimed for life if not straight up dead. No, this ward was someone else's design, completely undetectable from the outside. And now they knew she was here. 

Rubble was strewn across the ground, a huge hole gaped in the side of the building. A wall the exact shape and size of the hole stood in the midst of rubble, a forklift imbedded in it. _ That _was Harry’s work, no doubt about it. 

Hermione flattened her hands over her chest and ran them down her front. The jumper twisted and grew, threads melding together until it reached her thighs. Then it bubbled as metal threads overlapped the wool. It’s weight settled on her shoulders and quickly vanished. All of her clothes were made with the ability to become light armor. Her father may be disappointed with her refusal to join his horde of undead, but he loved her still. 

It was eerily quiet. Even the fading storm was muted. Flashes of lightning danced overhead but thunder didn’t make it through. Somewhere inside was a person monologuing. She was sure of it.

Stomping the heel of her boots on the ground, Hermione sent out a pulse of magic. Nothing in her immediate area. Running her fingers through her hair she considered tying it back, then thought better of it. Rolling her shoulders she made for the obvious entrance. How nice of Harry to leave the door open for her. 

Darkness yawned around her. She couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face. The opening lay directly behind her and yet the light was swallowed. A curse whizzed past her head. Hermione dropped and rolled, casting a silent protego. The shield curved around her, sending the next curse ricocheting back at its caster. Landing in a crouch in the midst of a few crates, she fired off a quick and dirty stinger. Someone yelped and she bared her teeth in a feral smile. 

“Bitch, this is your only warning. Leave or Perish.” A voice rumbled out of the dark, echoing back on itself. She could hear the capital letters. It was nearly impressive.

She couldn’t tell if the speaker was male or female, not that it truly mattered. They’ll die regardless. “Does this mean our play date is cancelled? And I got all dressed up too.”

A sickly yellow curse hit the crate right in front of her, melting it. Paper pulp hissed as it dissolved into a growing puddle, of what she assumed to be acid. 

“Was that for me? Oh sweetie, you shouldn’t have!” Hermione purred sweetly.

Shifting back, she slid around the next crate. Firing off a volley of white bolts, she listened as they landed and burst, hopefully blinding whomever was shooting at her. 

The speaker swore a blue streak. Oh how she loved fireworks. 

She dug into her beaded bag, pulling out a handful of marbles and a slingshot. Closing her eyes she focused on the cursing. Loaded a marble and aimed in the general direction of the voice. She fired. 

**BANG!**

The explosion rocked the crates, and fizzed angrily. She didn’t have to see it to know what was happening. Foam was expanding rapidly and hardening. Trapping everything it touched and smothering it. Hermione loaded another marble and waited. She had created the marbles to take out an oddly persistent wasp nest. But she was flexible in its usage. 

Silence. Had she taken them out already? 

She eased out from behind the crate. It exploded beside her. Throwing her a couple feet. The marble she had ready, shot across the room and blasted foam where it fell. 

Ears ringing she stumbled to her feet. Miraculously, she still had her wand in hand, and it was in one piece. Pulp rained down and she hoped the foam was far enough away not to reach her. Wetness trickled down the side of her head. Tentatively, she touched her hair, hot and sticky. She was bleeding. Great. 

“Lumos.” Her wand tip glowed with a soft light. It was one of the few charms she couldn’t do silently. Which vexed her greatly. Harry could pull a silent Lumos maxima out of his arse, but no, she couldn’t. 

The ground shifted underfoot. Hermione kept moving forward, wand pointed down. She didn’t look at the light itself, just used it to avoid stepping in any liquids she came across. No need to melt herself. 

Just how big was the warehouse? She limped through broken crates and debris. A red exit sign flickered to her left, she ignored it. The cement floor was blackened and gouged. Her opponent had yet to show themselves or attack. She couldn’t use a tracking spell without first drawing a circle. And Hermione didn’t have the time. 

Gravel crunched to her right. She spun and shot off a cutting curse. Dropping to the ground right after.

“Son of a bitch!” 

Ha! Got them!

Hermione sent a volley of her strongest stingers and fought the urge to cackle at the shrieking. She was ** _not _ **her mother. Somewhat sobered, she sent a few bluebells to float along the ceiling. The blue flames giving her more than enough light to get around without being too bright. Ten feet away a person huddled on the floor, bleeding and swelling. They keened lowly in pain. 

Hermione didn’t hide her approach. Striding with her head high and shoulders squared. They flinched at her approach. “What no more acid?”

They curled even further into themselves, and Hermione was at once disgusted. 

“Pathetic.” She ground out, nudging them in the ribs with her boot. “Get up and die like a warrior. How dare you just give up?” 

They stayed curled. Probably hoping the padded kevlar they wore would stop whatever she threw at them. Kevlar was useless when it came to magic. Anyone with a minimal magical education knew that. Which made her opponent an idiot. Hermione scoffed and stunned them. She was mildly offended. Surely she was worth more than a lowly grunt. Unless they weren’t expecting her...

Casting incarcerous for good measure, she levitated them toward the rafters and directed the ropes to bind them there. One person down, unknown to go. That no one had come running at the explosions and dueling was worrying. 

Setting the bluebells to expand, she explored the insanely large warehouse, seriously who needed one this big? Roughly the size of a football field, and she hadn’t even made it to the halfway point. 

She found the first body a few moments later. Well, parts of it anyway. First an arm, minus a few fingers. Followed by a torso, sans legs and neck. She didn’t bother searching for a head. A second body, in much better shape but no less dead followed shortly after. She followed the bodies like a trial of demented breadcrumbs. They lead to a wall. Literally a dead end. She chuckled internally and stepped through the wall. 

`~oOo~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noise slapped her ears and she winced. At least they hadn’t been ignoring her on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Mind the TAGS!!!!! Explicit violence and gore.  
Thank you to everyone who has left kudos or a comment or both! 
> 
> I'd advise that you read chapter 2 again, because this one picks up directly where chapter 2 left off

**Chapter 3**

Noise slapped her ears and she winced. At least they hadn’t been ignoring her on purpose. A monster stood in the center of a Ritual circle. Its body covered in quills and sparse fur, its face an amalgamation of ape and canid, with a bit of horror movie magic thrown in. Hermione could have spent days analyzing it and still she’d have no idea what exactly it was made of. Then again, Demons weren’t supposed to make sense. At least this one wasn’t her mother. 

A small army swarmed around the outer edges of the circle. Too close to the ritual to use magic, they used melee weapons instead. One guy had an honest to goodness sword. They fought a solid black, anthropomorphic wolf, who also had a sword. Dear Merlin, what had Harry gotten himself into?

All around the circle, hooded people chanted. The Demon raised its arms and flexed as power flowed into it. Whatever these people had planned, Hermione needed to stop it before they released the demon. The High Priest, easily recognisable because he wore a blood red robe, with the hood down and a crown of twisted ivory on his head. Raised a silver chalice. 

They were running out of time. The wolf snarled, beheading the other swordsman, and drawing her eye.

Hermione flicked her wand into its holster, and drew a pair of daggers. Wading into the fray she stabbed a man in the back, kicking him out of her way. They weren’t wearing any of the kevlar armor her previous opponent had, but that may have been for appearances only. Their loss. She sank a dagger into the base of a woman's skull. It was then that her presence was noticed. 

“Took you long enough!” Harry snapped as he leapt over her, landing with a heavy thud at her side. “Parties just getting started.” 

Harry could take three shapes, a man, which was Hermione's personal favorite. For obvious reasons. The second was a wolf, large, furry and generally able to pass as a big husky mix in public. The third was the form he currently had, a seven foot tall, perfectly proportioned, anthropomorphic wolf. His powers of speech were previously unheard off, but he could only do so in the warrior form. His typical wolf could only make a fully range of doggy sounds. 

“How’d you know I was coming?” Hermione ducked a hammer and slashed, giving her grunt a second mouth, much lower than the first. Blood sprayed her cheek, scalding against her skin. Dripping down her neck and past the collar of her light armor. Spinning she nailed another in the solar plexus, knocking him back. Yet another took his place.

“You always come for me.” Harry slashed his claws down a grunts face, popping his eyes out. The grunt collapsed; screaming in agony. Harry shook the eyeballs off with a shudder, and dove for the next person. Sinking his teeth into her throat with a wet squelch. 

Fire erupted on her ribs. Hermione hissed and stumbled, losing her footing on the blood covered concrete. She hit the ground knees first. Hand groping her side, searching for a hilt. Hot, sticky blood coated her fingers instead. Hermione swore. 

A heavy boot slammed into her injured side. Stars exploded behind her eyes and Hermione went sprawling. Time slowed. Somehow she managed to keep hold of both daggers without slicing her hand to ribbons. She jerked onto her back, pulled her legs up and kicked. Hitting the idiot that kicked her in the knees. He fell forward, knees destroyed. Even if he somehow survived, he’d never walk without pain again. 

He grabbed at her. Twisting his arm around her thigh. Hermione kneed him in the face. He raised his other fist, she kicked him in the face. Once, twice. He let go. 

Squirming backward she tried to get her leg out. A grunt dove at her, she let him fall onto her knife. Literally. What kind of idiot just jumps onto a knife? She needed to get up. Hermione rolled the first body off. Dragging her dagger out of his chest. 

Faster, she needed to be faster. Two more were headed her way. Bucking her hips she jostled the grunt on her legs. Twisting she knocked him off. She crouched, a dagger in each hand as two grunts bore down on her. Both had knives that desperately wanted to be swords. 

Hermione lunged, aiming for the knees. The grunts separated, trying to flank her. 

Harry leapt onto one, sinking his teeth into the grunts neck, they dropped under his weight. 

“Why do you always end up at these types of parties? Do I need to stop letting you make friends without me?” Hermione stabbed the other in the foot. She screamed, hopping backwards. 

“I’m just lucky. And what's wrong with a good ole bash once in a while?” He smiled at her, teeth bloody with bits of flesh caught between them. Batting a grunt away he gave her a hand up. 

“I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth. At least twice!” She patted his furry arm and swept her leg out, catching a grunt in the stomach with her shin. She stomped on his chest and hopped over him. Letting Harry’s hand go at the last possible second.

Harry laughed and threw a man twice the size of his human self clear across the room. He slammed into the wall and landed in a broken heap.

“Hermione, we need to stop them.” He said, suddenly serious.

“You don’t say?” Hermione would have rolled her eyes but a grunt came at her with an axe. She jumped back and to the side, grabbing their elbow and pinning it to her uninjured side. She rammed a dagger just under their chin. 

Harry panted as he ripped an arm clean off. Blood curdling screams were cut short as he lopped their head off. Seeming to remember that he had a sword. “The vessel is a child!”

Hermione's blood ran cold. Bile clawed her throat. She sidestepped a punch and vomited. The grunt recoiled in disgust. She wiped her mouth and lunged at him. Stumbling over a body, she missed her slash. The grunt fled. And Hermione realized that there were more bodies than grunts left. 

The High Priest’s chalice was starting to smoke. Hermione abandoned Harry and charged. Harry could take care of the few remaining. She needed to stop the ritual. Her feet felt like lead, her side burning. She’d been fighting longer than she thought. Far longer than she was used to. 

Break the circle and she risks injuring the child. Leave it intact and the child dies for sure. The Priest began to lower the chalice. If it passes through the circle then its over. The vessel will be completely converted. She pushed herself harder, her chest and ribs burned. She might have broken one or two. Using any kind of magic this close to the circle would level the building and probably the block. 

Her boots slapped the concrete, Harry howled in pain or triumph, she didn’t know. Couldn’t risk looking. Closer. Almost there. Her vision tunneled, all she could see was the Priest. Just a little bit closer. Now!

She threw her legs out, like a batter sliding into home and took the Priest out at the knees. The chalice tumbled through the air heading right for the circle. The demon roared, Hermione screamed, palmed a dagger and threw it. The hilt slammed into the chalice, knocking it off course. 

** _WHUMP! _ **

White. Everything was white. She couldn’t see, her ears rang and her body ached. Hermione reeled, the ground shifting beneath her. 

Slowly color leached back into her vision and her world came into focus. The Priest was half on top of her, either dead or unconscious. Smoke clogged the air, it hurt to breathe. To move. Hermione groaned and pushed him off. Flames crackled.

“Wonderful, let's save the kid from the demon but set the place on fire instead. Good job Hermione!” She grumbled, slowly gaining her footing. The ground heaved, she stayed standing but she didn’t know how. 

A piercing wail cut through the smoke, and fire. Hermione turned in place, trying to find it. In the magical backlash she had lost her bearings. 

“Hermione!” Harry appeared out of the smoke, naked, scorched and covered in blood. He’d never looked sexier. Especially with the crying toddler held firmly on his hip. 

She ran to them, ignoring the throbbing in her side. Throwing her arms around them both she kissed Harry’s forehead and caressed the child's cheeks. 

The child looked up at her, blood dripping from his nose, and lips. Hermione gently grasped the child’s hands and blew into them. A soft flame formed in the child’s hands for a moment before sinking into the skin. The child giggled as he felt the flame tingle through his body, closing his injuries.

“Warm.” He whispered.

“I’ve decided we’re keeping him.” Harry stated as they made their way through the burning building.

Hermione grimached at his still bloody teeth. “I-”

“You always bring the kids home, and I love them. Truly. But I get to take one home this time.”

“Harry, what if he has a family?” The warehouse was much brighter the second time through. Hermione let her prisoner down and removed the enchanted ropes. She didn’t wake him though. Anyone who willingly participated tonight deserved to die. 

“I haven’t seen any missing child reports. We can just adopt him, like the others and no one will know.” He shrugged. Besides, if he hasn’t been reported missing then clearly they don’t deserve him. 

The child cuddled closer to Harry, looking up at her with bright green eyes. “He even sort of looks like you.” Hermione softened her expression, and gave him her nicest smile, “What’s your name buddy?”

“Ames,” He smiled at her in return.

“James?” Hermione blinked in surprise.

“Ames!” He nodded enthusiastically, giving her a toothy grin. He couldn’t be more than two at the most. 

“Well James, let's go meet your new sister, Riley!” She pointed at the empty lot, wandlessly cancelling she disillusionment charm. Ghost and Shadow stood at their approach. 

“You brought a baby with you? On a rescue mission?” Harry demanded, incredulous.

“It’s not like I had a choice, Harry. Would you rather I’d gone home first and just let you die?” Hermione opened the rear door, and lifted a pre-measured bottle of dry formula out of a diaper bag. Followed closely by an unopened bottle of water. She opened both lids and poured the water into the baby bottle. Shaking it viciously. Riley was awake but not yet fussing. Most likely hungry. 

“Of course not, but you just left her alone?” He opened the rear door and set James in a car seat. “Do you still keep that spare baby bag?”

Hermione fished it out from under the seat and tossed it over the roof of the car. She shrugged out of her bloody jumper, unbuckled Riley and cradled her to her chest, offering the bottle. Riley grabbed it with both hands and popped the nipple into her mouth, sighing contentedly. Hermione rocked back and forth, keeping a wary eye on the warhouse. The glamor hiding it still held, but for how much longer? 

Harry pulled out a pair of sweatpants for himself, and a nappy for James. He made quick work of getting himself dressed. Then set about finding a shirt for James. The first three shirts were too small, but he did find a 2T sleeper that seemed to fit. James didn’t fight getting dressed, just rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“Is he too old for a bottle?” Harry asked, James in his arms once again. He rocked back and forth, rubbing the boys back.

“Not tonight he isn’t.” Hermione pointed at the bag with her chin, “I should have another premade bottle there. Water too.”

Harry placed the bottle on top of the car and poured the water in. Screwing the lid back on he shook it. Careful not to jostle James too much. He shifted the boy lower on his arm and offered the bottle. James took it eagerly and tried to snuggle closer into Harry’s chest. 

“So, when did you want to get a bigger car?” 

Hermione leaned back and flipped him off with the hand supporting Riley’s bum. 

~oOo~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened tonight?” Hermione asked. Both kids were asleep in the back and they were finally on their way home. Sirens wailed as several firetrucks sped past, heading toward the warehouse. They watched them go. Neither of them overly concerned. The residue from a black ritual would overwhelm any traces they’d left behind. Including James.

**Chapter 4**

“What happened tonight?” Hermione asked. Both kids were asleep in the back and they were finally on their way home. Sirens wailed as several firetrucks sped past, heading toward the warehouse. They watched them go. Neither of them overly concerned. The residue from a black ritual would overwhelm any traces they’d left behind. Including James.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, muscles in his arms flexing dangerously. Even covered in blood he was beautiful. Sitting beside her wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his chest on full display. Hermione had to fight to look at the road and not the thin trail of hair that lead from his belly button down into his pants. 

He caught her looking and gave her a slow, smile. Sending a shiver straight to her core. Hermione shifted in her seat, and Harry chuckled. Reaching out he rested his hand, palm up on the console. Hermione threaded her fingers between his and squeezed his hand twice. He returned the gesture and let her go. 

“I don’t know.” He began somberly, “I was out on a quick patrol and ran into Ron, who told me that he had a job for me. I told him to piss off, might have threatened to eat him too. Vampires taste like shit but I would have made an exception for him. Anyway, he made some remark about you being a bad influence then told me not to go to the industrial complex.”

“And naturally you did.” Hermione nodded, flicking her blinker and gliding through a turn. “I had a run in with him too.”

“Oh yeah? Did you curse him again at least?”

Hermione smirked, “No, unfortunately. But finish telling me about tonight.”

“I took a shortcut across the river, in full form of course, don’t need animal control showing up at the house again. I learned my lesson last time.” He shuddered and rested his foot against her dash, draping his arm over his knee. 

Hermione carefully avoided looking at his abs. Or at him in general. Eyes on the road missy!

“I heard a baby crying. And found James being brought into the warehouse. Which was odd enough. But then I saw Ron setting up a glamor and knew something wasn’t right. So I went in. Got into a fight with a bunch of warehouse guards.”

“I found bits of them.” Hermione tapped the brakes as a light changed. She fluttered her fingers, “Scattered about.”

“Good. they deserved it! Ron left shortly after I showed up. I waited and watched them set up for an hour. More curious than anything. As soon as I realized what they were about to do I attacked. You showed up a while later and here we are.”

“Here we are.” Hermione agreed. 

~oOo~

Passing through the property wards of Hearthstone Cottage, was like stepping into a warm bath. Hermione relaxed bit by bit, the closer they got to the house. Her driveway was long and curved through a natural forest that she encouraged to grow. Partially because she liked wild things, but also because fighting through underbrush was exhausting for humans and easy for animals. Including her stone guardians. Some of which kept pace with the car. 

Stone guardian’s were an offshoot of gargoyles. Except where the gargoyle was a living breathing creature that turned to stone during the day, A stone guardian was stone always and there was nothing fully living about it. Created by taking a statue or carving; marble worked best, but nearly anything could be used. And bonding it with a soul. Then in turn binding them to a ward scheme, or lineage. The soul itself could be an animal, and if ever asked that’s exactly what Hermione claimed, but they could be human too. 

All of the Stone Guardian’s at Hearthstone Cottage, were bonded to the lineage. But not all of them were purely animal either. As far as Hermione knew, only four of her guardians started out human. Her great-great grandfather, a leopard that sat on the left side of the front door, his wife, the jaguar on the right. The other two were enemies of House Black. One had been a would-be assassin, and was now an african wild dog. The second was a vampire who saw Hermione as a way to power. The newest of her guardians, was a kitten.

The babysitter met them at the door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She blinked at them, flicked the outside light off, then back on and just stood there, dumbfounded.

Hermione didn’t blame her. They were covered in muck and stank to high heavens of blood and sulfur and death. But they paid her to watch the sleeping kids, not to judge them. Besides she got a ridiculous amount of money to sit and watch TV, or play on her phone. Whatever it was teens did for fun. 

Harry offered her a guest room due to the late hour and she accepted, stumbling half asleep to the nearest guest room. It wouldn’t be fair to make her drive home. Not when it was four am.

They split up at the door, Harry taking both car seats into the kitchen and Hermione heading for her potion’s lab. Thankful that she didn’t have any carpet, or even light colored floors. 

Hermione ran her fingers over a set of runes carved into a heavy duty door. They flashed green and the lock turned over. Can’t be too careful when it comes to potions and children. The door swung open on its own, lights turning on at the same time. Three tables occupied the center of the room. Each made of the same dark wood, and topped with marble slabs. Above each table was a power bar as long as the table, and plugged into them, were several crock pots. Some pots boiled, others churned. One’s lid bobbed as dark blue smoke over flowed. Along right side walls were racks of empty jars and vials. With lids and stoppers, both rubber and glass, in marked containers.The left side had huge sinks and drying racks.

Hermione walked past the crock pots, giving each table a careful glance. Nothing out of place or about to blow. She’d had more than enough explosions tonight. A reinforced steel door, opened into the potions storeroom. Each rack carefully temperature controlled and color coded. Green for healing, purple for poison, blue for antivenoms and antidotes. Red for love/lust. Gold for luck, and black for weaponized. She selected a handful of healing potions and made her way out. Careful to seal the door behind her. She gave the bubbling crock pots another look over before leaving her lab.

Harry was in the kitchen watching Crookshanks examine the kiddlets. Both Riley and James were asleep in their car seats on the floor. Crookshanks sniffed them curiously. The kneazle was more than used to children, and Hermione's antics of bringing them home in the middle of the night. 

She split the potions between her and Harry, each spelling the contents into the babies bellies. The last two potions were for themselves. Harry grumbled and took his after a serious eyebrow raise from Hermione. She downed hers like a shot. Smirking at him as she did so. 

Harry moved in for a kiss, Hermione dodged, placing a finger on his lips. 

“Ah-ah! Brush first, kisses later.” 

He licked her finger and she pulled back, scandalized. “But Hermione, we survived tonight. That's worth at least one kiss.”

“Of course it is.” She nodded, “But only after you floss the grunt out. Why did you have to bite her? That’s disgusting.” She leant against a counter, pushing a rack of drying dishes out of her way. 

“It was effective and,” he levered his hand back and forth, “a bit dramatic. What’s the point of being a werewolf if you can’t maul someone every now and then?” Harry picked up a cup, crossed the room and filled it with water from the cooler. Taking a long drink.

“Still gross.” Hermione grumbled as she stacked dinner plates in the sink. Tomorrow she’d do the dishes, or maybe she’d make Harry do them. Tonight they were not her problem. 

He shrugged and picked up both car seats, “Let's get these two settled in shall we?”

Hermione followed him up the stairs and towards the nursery. They stopped to check on the oldest two on their way by. Greyson, their oldest at three years old, was sprawled across his bed, one foot hanging off the edge, his head at the foot of the bed. Hermione tucked his leg back onto the bed and they moved to the next room. Mia, fifteen months old, was sleeping with her head on a flat pillow and her blanket on the floor. Hermione tucked the blanket back around her. 

The nursery was meant for babies, it had cribs and mobiles, soft paintings on the walls of an enchanted forest. And a night sky painted on the ceiling. It was Hermione's favorite room in the house, second only to the library. And as of right that moment, bed. She loved bed like moths love lamps.

Hermione changed James out of his sleeper and into a clean, better fitting dinosaur one. Taking the time to change his nappy as well. The potions and her quick healing had done their job, his skin was flawless, and if he was a little underweight, well she could take care of that too. 

Harry changed Riley’s nappy and dressed her in a white sleeper with purple dots. She wasn’t bruised, nor did she seem underweight. Which was good. When Hermione had brought Mia home, the poor girl had been in bad shape. Harry still had nightmares about losing her. 

Both kids slept through the changes in wardrobes, and being placed into cribs. Harry set the mobiles to play soft lullabies. He made his way back into the older kids rooms, kissing each one goodnight. 

“Bed?” He asked Hermione as she walked out of the nursery.

“Bed.” She nodded, “Right after we shower.”

“Agreed.”

~oOo~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alarm bells reverberated through her skull, Hermione snapped her eyes open. Under her left hand the ward stone grew warm; it always made its way to her when the wards were tripped. Someone was in her house. Behind her Harry was tense and silent. Listening.

**Chapter 5 **

Alarm bells reverberated through her skull, Hermione snapped her eyes open. Under her left hand the ward stone grew warm; it always made its way to her when the wards were tripped. Someone was in her house. Behind her Harry was tense and silent. Listening. 

“Where?” Hermione breathed the question, hardly even a whisper. Her entire body ached, exhaustion clawed her eyelids. She pushed it down, pulling her magic to her like a cloak. 

Harry rolled out of bed, back hunched he prowled to the door, fur bristling through the skin on his shoulders. He shook his head like a dog and the change washed over him. The wolf’s green eyes met her own and he showed her his teeth.

“Nursery.”

Hermione exploded out of bed, calling her wand to her, and waking every single guardian on the property with a thought. 

They moved together, Harry through the main bedroom door and Hermione through the bathroom. They came together in the hallway easily avoiding the creaking floorboards. The Nursery door was down the hall and to the right, Hermione eased Greyson and Mia’s door shut as she passed. Warding them with a brush of her fingertips. 

Harry pinned his ears back, put on his fiercest snarl and ducked into the nursery.

“Oh do put yourself away, you’re an embarrassment.” Drolled a cool, aristocratic voice. 

Harry rumbled and sank into his full form. Brushing past Hermione he stalked back to bed. Hermione had half a mind to follow him. Instead she took his place in the doorway. 

A vampire stood between the two cribs, white blond shoulder length hair, frilled shirt , tucked neatly into dove grey pants. His overcoat was open with the collar popped. What was it with vampires and trench coats? Couldn’t they find different types of jacket, or even a thick hoodie? 

Lucius Malfoy. Her father. 

Hermione took after her mother. Wild curls, narrow nose, slightly pointed chin, dangerously intelligent, with a penchant for violence. Somehow between her mother's grey eyes and her father’s blue, Hermione ended up with deep swirling brown. It was, in her mother's opinion, Hermione's largest fault. But her mother ran off to bond with a demon, so Hermione tried not to take her opinion too seriously. 

Lucius on the other hand, adored both his children and heaped upon them glorious amounts of unconditional love and support. Which meant that he occasionally broke into Hermione’s house in a strange attempt to heap his unending love on his grandchildren. And to annoy Harry. Probably his main motivation now that hermione thought about it. Vampires and werewolves may not be at war, but they did not get on well either. 

She sent out a pulse of magic, sending most of the guardians back to sleep. An African wild dog waited in the hallway. Backup in case she decided to throw her father face first into the sun. Hermione didn’t let any of the Guardians maul or even mildly inconvenience her father. He could heal just about any non-lethal wound, provided they weren’t dealt with religiously blessed weapons. No use wasting a perfectly good guardian, Lucius would just destroy it. 

“Why is it,” Lucius asked in mildly curious tone, the kind where butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “That you’ve keyed the wards to alert you to my presence, but not your brothers?”

“He calls before he visits. He doesn’t just show up out of the blue on my doorstep. Or in your case, the middle of my nursery looming over my children.” Hermione leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. 

“I wouldn’t need to break in if you invited me to meet my grandchildren on the eve of their… _ acquirement _? Is that the right word for it? Purchase seems too gaudy, and truly I don’t care how you give me grandchildren Hermione, I only wish to be a part of their lives.”

“You never give me a chance to invite you! I get home with the baby, get them settled down and as soon as I doze off, BOOM! You’re in my house. Honestly, it's getting old.” She paused for a second, stunned. “ADOPTION! The correct term is their adoption. What is wrong with you?”

“Honestly, my dear, we don’t have the time to delve into what’s wrong with me. You’ve had these angels for hours. No call, no patronus. Not even so much as a courtesy facebook post!” 

“I don’t even use facebook,” She shrugged, falsely apologetic. “A Patronus is for emergencies only, and you don’t have a cell. I am not going to be put on hold by some flunky who doesn’t believe that I’m your daughter.”

Lucius huffed and leaned over the side of James’ crib, tucking the blanket tighter around him. James scowled in his sleep. It was the most adorable thing Hermione had ever seen. 

“You used to do that.” Lucius nodded toward James, who was still scowling. “I’d break into your mother's house to check on you sometimes. I’d find you curled around a cloth book and scowling ferociously. I have a picture somewhere. Where did you rescue this little one from? If I couldn’t smell the blood magic on him, I’d swear you had a secret baby.”

“It’s a long story.”

Lucius spread his arms wide and sat in one of the two rocking recliner chairs. Hermione’s favorite chair to be exact. “I have time.”

“What about the sun?”

He waved his hand, pointing to a golden ring, with a yellow topaz, on his middle finger. A daylight ring. It would allow any vampire who wore it to walk unafraid and unharmed in the sunlight. They were prohibitively expensive, and rare. Only a handful existed, and no one knew how to create more. Discovered in the early 1300’s they spread through the major vampire Seethes, wars were fought over them, and Lucius wouldn’t have bought only one… 

Hermione settled into the chair opposite him, “I imagine you got one for Draco as well?”

“Naturally, so tell me about my new grandchildren.”

Hermione started at the beginning. Leaving nothing out. About halfway through Lucius abandoned his seat and began to pace. When she finished, the look on her father's face promised death. 

He crossed the room to her, crouching beside the chair. Lucius caressed her cheek, his palm cool. Gently he turned her head and examined the gash on her temple. 

“I could heal that for you.”

Hermione recoiled, hands flying up to ward him off. “Absolutely not.”

“It would only take a moment. Why won't you let me help you?”

“No. No, no, no.” She shook her head and leaned back as far as the chair would allow. “I am not going to let you lick my head. I don’t care if that means it takes longer to heal. No touchy, no licking!” 

“Fine.” Lucius stood and walked to the window. Trailing his fingers through the thin rays of sunlight that snuck past the curtains. He watched the sun play on his skin, marveling at the warmth. “Get some sleep my dearest. I’ll mind the children for a few hours.”

Hermione covered a yawn, and nodded. The kids loved it when Vampy visited, and sleep sounded like a fantastic idea. 

“I’ll do that. Thank you Father.” Hermione shifted, pins and needles erupted all over her legs. Slowly she gained her feet and rocked on her heels, dizzy with exhaustion. “I need to use the sleep.”

He waved her off, and opened the curtains a crack. Angling the chair so that sunlight bathed it but didn’t disturb the kids. He sat down and let the sun wash over him.

~oOo~

Laughter pealed and children shrieked. Lucius ran slowly, every motion exaggerated, as Greyson, Mia, and James chased him. All three were armed with tiny water guns, and were absolutely soaked. They disappeared around the corner, laughter echoing in their wake. Hermione grinned, after the night she and Harry had, a day relaxing in the sun and playing with the kids was just what she needed.

Hermione dipped a water gun into a purple elephant wading pool. Harry sat across from her. The elephants trunk doubled as a sprinkler, spraying warm water over Riley’s kicking feet. Water dripped down his bare chest. 

Hermione licked her lips. They’d gotten in far too filthy and tired to do anything. A shame since there was nothing better after a fight than hot, dirty sex. The kind where they barely managed to get their clothes off, hard and fast. His fingers tangled in her hair, her hands tied to the headboard… She shivered. Oh yes, she’ll be getting some tonight. She caught his eye and bit her lip.

Harry smirked at her, shifted Riley into the crook of his left arm. With his right hand he splashed her. Hermione sputtered, pushing her hair out of her face. 

“Don’t make me hurt you Potter!” She growled, palming the water gun and aiming it at him. 

He laughed and ducked. Holding Riley in front of himself like a shield. “Come on Hermione, would you really risk hitting Riley?”

Hermione pumped the gun, priming it. “Try me.”

“Oh, honey. I plan to.”

Hermione pulled the trigger. Getting him right in the nose, missing Riley by millimeters. She emptied it on him, chortling. Then she popped it open and stuck it back in the water. Harry chuckled at her, wiping his face and shaking his head.

Water gun once again full, she laid it out beside two others. When the children looped back around, they’d swap their empty guns for full ones. Maybe if she was lucky, She could catch her father off guard and pelt him with a few water balloons. 

~oOo~

Hermione set the kids up with a disney movie. They yawned and curled up on the couch. Each had their own blanket and a special no-spill cup filled with watered down apple juice. Lucius had left shortly after dinner, conveniently leaving her with three tired toddlers. The kitchen looked directly down into the sunken living room, three steps leading in and out of it. Hermione snapped a baby gate shut and joined Harry and Riley. 

Harry was elbow deep in hot, sudsy water. Dishes half done. Riley was in a jungle exersaucer/jolly jumper hybrid. Bouncing happily and spinning a ballerina monkey. Hermione grabbed a drying towel and started the tortuous job of drying the dishes. Why Harry couldn’t just let them air dry overnight she had no idea. Probably had something to do with how he was raised. Strict households have a way of hanging on. 

They worked in easy silence. Hermione had learned not to complain the entire time, and in turn Harry didn’t poke fun at her over it. One day she was going to buy a dishwasher, and then Harry could take his, “Dishes should be done right after supper, washed, dried and folded,” and shove it straight up his ass. 

She put the last plate into the cupboard. Riley was half asleep, head resting on her arm, fingers spinning a cylinder full of beads. Harry wiped down the counter top.

“I’ll get the kids in bed, if you wipe the table down.” 

Hermione didn’t even need to think about it. “Deal.” 

Harry tossed her the cloth and scooped Riley into his arms. She cuddled into him and yawned. He unlatched the gate and one by one roused the toddlers. Leading them like a line of ducklings to their beds. Hermione set the teamaker, a five cup coffee maker used exclusively for tea, to brewing and wiped down the table as it worked. Harry joined her just as she poured two cups.

“So,” She began, sending both mugs to the table with a wave of her wand., before pulling creamer out of the fridge. “What are we going to do about Ron? I think he meant for the conclave to kill you. Us. Shit, he set us both up.”

Harry nodded and settled into a chair, resting both arms on the table. Claiming a mug and pouring honey into it. “We could kill him. It’s been on our to do list for a few years now.”

“I like the way you think.” Hermione stirred creamer into her tea. “Messing with demons… it's not his typical style though. He likes to threaten and plot.”

Harry shrugged, “People change. Maybe he’s tired of being the good little vampire.”

“You think this could be a bid for power?” She blanched, “The last thing we need is another Dolohov.”

Antonin Dolohov joined the Seethe in the hopes of taking it over. He thought that he could use Hermione as leverage against her father. Forcing Lucius to submit to his own death, in order to save his daughter’s life. Antonin thought Hermione was her father’s weak link. He didn’t expect her to fight him. As if she, a mere mortal, wouldn’t be a match against him. 

He thought wrong. After all, she was her mother’s daughter.

She fought him, and he cursed her, a nasty thing of his own creation. It ripped through her, a purple flame that boiled her magic in her veins. She nearly died. But Hermione was her mother’s daughter, even near death she had one last trick. Antonin turned away, wanting to watch Lucius witness his daughter’s death. And in turn, Hermione ripped Antonin’s soul out of his body and bound him into the statue of a kitten. He’d spend eternity protecting her and her family. 

“We could always use another Guardian.” 

Hermione scowled, “He does remind me of a rat.”

~oOo~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crookshanks hopped up beside her and sat. His yellow eyes boring into the side of her skull. She tapped the pack again. Crookshanks lifted his paw and swatted. 
> 
> Taptaptap!
> 
> Hermione fumbled the pack of smokes, nearly dropping them. She hadn’t even seen him move.

**Chapter 6**

Hermione leaned on the railing of her deck. The white paint chipped and peeling in some places, and vibrant and glossy in others. She tapped the corner of a pack of cigarettes on the wide rail. To smoke or not to smoke. That was the question. Or so she asked herself in a slightly mocking tone. Quitting was the hardest thing she’d ever done. The only thing she was consistently failing at. Sure she could brew Polyjuice to absolute perfection, but quit smoking? That was asking too much. 

Crookshanks hopped up beside her and sat. His yellow eyes boring into the side of her skull. She tapped the pack again. Crookshanks lifted his paw and swatted. 

Taptaptap!

Hermione fumbled the pack of smokes, nearly dropping them. She hadn’t even seen him move. 

“Just what do you think you are doing?” She arched a brow and turned to look the massive cat in the eye. Crookshanks blinked and slammed his head into her chin as hard as he could. 

She reared back, “Ow! What the hell?” 

Crookshanks yawned and did his best mac truck impression. Which was nearly louder than the real truck idling up to the deck. Scowling Hermione flipped Crooks off and shooed him off the railing. Flipping a latch she opened a cleverly disguised gate, and converted part of her deck into a loading dock. 

Harry backed his shiny black dodge up to the gate with practised ease. They’d done this a thousand times. Hermione tucked her smokes into a back pocket and watched Harry exit the truck and walk towards the back. His acid washed jeans hugged his ass like a glove. She could bounce a coin off it. His plain button up shirt was open at the top and both sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. She could jump him, right there on the deck. Ride him down to the ground and have her wicked way with him on the lawn. They’d done it before afterall. 

Harry dropped the tailgate and hopped onto it. Springing from the ground like a gazelle. The pickup rocked as he landed, he turned to her and grinned.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively and cocked a hip, “Well hello there, come here often?”

His grin morphed into a slow, easy smile. The kind that sent butterflies zinging around her belly. Even after years together, that smile got her every time. His green eyes darkened and swirled with gold as the wolf winked at her. 

“Why yes I do.”

Hermione fanned herself with her hand, tilting her head and giving him a nice view of her bare neck. “Oh my, aren’t I a lucky lady?”

Harry’s face lost any semblance of humanity as the wolf grinned. Wild, fierce, and hot with unspoken promise, and more than a little teeth. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll make sure we’re both lucky.” 

“Only a few minutes?” Hermione laughed and tilted her head as Harry stepped off the truck and onto the deck. 

“Well we don’t want to wake the pups. I can be quiet, can you?” He punctuated each word with a step. 

Hermione matched him step for step, easing backward until her back hit the french doors and Harry’s hands landed on her hips. He kissed her forehead, chest rumbling with a suppressed growl. She looped her arms around his neck and arched her back; both away from the door’s handle and closer to him. Win-win. Harry squeezed her hips, fingers tugging on the belt loops of her pants. Pulling her closer. 

Pressing his forehead to hers, he inhaled deeply, drawing her into himself. Hermione stayed flush against him and watched the last of the green fade from his eyes. Playing dominance games with Harry was sexy and fun. With his wolf though, she had to toe the line of playful disobedience very carefully. 

If he edged any closer toward the change she’d be left holding a massive wolf. It wouldn’t be the first time either. The wolf liked to play, but when playtime jumped from sex to fetch, it was a bit of a let down. It embarrassed both Harry and the wolf, and the next time the wolf made an appearance he was full of apologetic snuggles. Waking up with her face pressed into the wolf’s shaggy neck happened far more than she’d ever get Harry to openly admit. 

Hermione leaned back until her shoulders rested against the cool door. Fully trusting the wolf to hold her upright. “What happens if I’m _ not quiet _?” 

The wolf laughed, flecks of green swirling within the depths of gold, “Let’s find out.”

~oOo~

“Are you sure about this?” Harry leant against the side of his truck and did absolutely nothing to help. “I’m not trying to be controlling or tell you what you can and cannot do. But I seriously think you should reconsider.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Flicking her wand she sent a crock pot into the box of the truck, tucking it into a nest of blankets. “Look, your reasoning is sound. Things are a bit strange lately. But this is our bread and butter. We can’t afford to skip out on the Market.” 

Harry nodded and crossed his arms, “I understand, but at least take someone with you. I can talk to Dudley, see about getting the pack involved.”

“Are you sure?” She settled another crock pot in place. Almost finished. 

Dudley was a bit of a sore spot for Harry, which Hermione understood fully. Between their shared childhood and Dudley being an Alpha werewolf, it was a deep and multifaceted bruise. Harry was raised by a cruel uncle and an aunt too weak to leave him. Hermione hadn’t met Vernon, and most likely never would. Not unless he magically appeared after being missing for several years. Petunia on the other hand was quiet and rigid. She flinched if anyone moved suddenly, but she went to weekly group sessions for survivors of domestic abuse, and even volunteered with women's shelters. The only men she wasn’t hostel towards were her boys. Hermione didn’t fault her for that. 

“I am.” Harry turned, squaring his shoulders, “We might not be as close now as we were as teens, but he knows I’ll always have his back. Just as I know that he’ll have mine. That means he has yours as well love. Family is pack, Pack is family.”

“How will your other half react to the pack’s presence?” Hermione waved the last crock pot into place and double checked the stasis charms. Two Alpha's in one place wouldn't be fun, but at least the veiw would be nice. Perhaps they could just stand around half naked and let her stare at them instead of rolling around in the dirt fighting a battle neither will win. 

Harry rolled the cover over the box and locked it. Tossing Hermione the keys he picked up a worn red trunk and loaded it into the backseat. “It was partially his idea. We have to stay and look after the kids, if the house is attacked I can raise the stone guardians. If you are attacked at the market who has your back? You always come running to help me. Let me lend a hand this time, even if its by proxy.”

“Alright, give him a call. He knows where the market is.”

~oOo~

The night market was never truly held in the same place. Open every weekend and the eve of most major holidays, it was always busy. But its location spanned the world. Stepping into the marketplace lent a familiar feeling to a flea or farmers market. Ordinary people selling ordinary wares. Handmade jewelry, used books, scentsy, avon and tupperware. Fresh baked goods, the scent alone set mouths to watering. There was almost always an adoption event running, local rescues turning out to get their dogs, cats and occasionally rats a forever home. 

Set up like a square spiral, the deeper into the market the stranger the wares. Tarot card readings, impossibly small bags that were bigger on the inside. Exotic pets for sale with signs that read: Please do not touch the tails! Bubbling brews that promised love, luck or health. Charmed jewelry, powerful amulets, and more. 

People filled the market, more than their should possibly be, their voices faded into a dull roar; accents flavoring their speech. A Canadian nudged their friend, flat accent lending a hand towards stereotype as they said both: “Eh,” and “Aboot,” in the same overheard sentence. Someone had a lizard on their shoulders, wings tucked tightly against its sides. Deeper into the market a Goblin exchanged gold for cash, glasses perched precariously on his hooked nose. Two vampires, eternally youthful and impossibly old at the same time handed out flyers stating: “Do you want to live forever?” 

Hermione set her table up as far from the vampires as she could get, while still able to watch them. She’d had more than enough of them lately. Naturally, her brother lurked over her shoulder. She didn’t count Draco among the vampires, he would forever be her taller but younger brother. 

Draco and Harry seemed to thinking along the same lines, because Draco popped up the moment she arrived. And wouldn’t leave her alone. Thus far she’d had him unload the truck and fetch her a bottle of water while she set up. 

Now all she needed was for Dudley to arrive and her night full of posturing and bickering could commence. Her head already hurt. Would taking a migraine potion be considered good advertising or just a good idea? She eyed the neat row of glowing pink vials. Better safe than sorry. She plucked one off the slanted rack and threw it back like a shot. Grimacing she chased it with water. 

An old woman walked by muttering about kids these days and scowling. Hermione bared her teeth in her best deranged smile. And chuckled to herself when the crone picked up the pace. Shaking her head Hermione shuffled her table set up around, making room for a double Bunsen burner, having a potion or two actively bubbling would draw more attention than premade vials. 

She set two cauldrons atop the burners, one she filled a quarter full of water and the other poured a potion base into. However, no one said she had to start from scratch to seem more authentic. An invigoration draught took less than an hour to brew. She laid out the ingredients and set her tools aside for later. To the cauldron full of water she added a piece of dry ice. Fog boiled over the sides and poured across her table, potion vials gleamed even brighter in contrast. 

Hermione was set up on the corner of the spiral, it was a hard won spot that allowed her easy access to the inner market and thus more diverse clientele. All the while keeping her firmly in London proper. The center of the market was rooted in a dimensional pocket. People could come and go, but returning to the main point of origin wasn’t guaranteed; occasionally people didn’t return at all. It wasn’t a game she wanted to play. 

Draco rounded the corner a canvas bag in hand and a solid black cat curled around his shoulders. He walked with his head up and back straight, as if the cats extra stone didn’t faze him. Which Hermione figured, it didn’t. She’d seen Draco lift the front end of a car off the road with one hand. Really what was a cat compared to that? 

“Why is it,” Draco asked as he joined her behind the table, “That you need to borrow Matilda for these events? Why can’t you use your _ actual _familiar?”

“Because Matilda,” Hermione scooped her off Draco’s shoulder deliberately musing his hair, “Is exactly what you’d expect a witches familiar to look like. Crookshanks is fantastic but the last time I brought him, he ate a Golden Parakeet. Do you have any idea how much those cost? I’m still paying it off.”

“Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with you.” He scowled and combed his hair back into place. Not that it was hard to do. He had a pompadour cut. Shaved close on the sides and back, but long in the front. It was meant to be slick and smooth. 

He thought it made him look good. She thought he looked a bit like a douche. Then again if Harry had a cut like that… She shook herself and returned to petting Matilda.

“Because you love me. Also we have no choice, seeing as we’re siblings and share a unique bond or whatever bullshite our father spewed at us as we grew up.” 

“Ah, yes. I’d nearly forgotten.”

Hermione scoffed and shook her head, “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to be here? Because if you have plans then you can go, I don’t mind.” 

“No, I’m saying that you’re a pain in my arse but also my sister. If that means spending half the night behind this booth with you then so be it.” Draco pulled a bottle of water out of the bag and handed it to her.

Hermione opened it and sipped, eyeing the crowd. It was early yet, and although the market was bustling her corner was a bit slow. She stirred the cauldron of dry ice, sending wisps of fog upward like a tiny tornado. From the corner of her eye she watched the vampire table freeze and slowly turn, looking deeper into the market. Beside her Draco stiffened. 

“What is it?” She didn’t let up on the stirring. Both vampires stood, leaning back and peering around each other.

“Something’s wrong.” Draco murmured as he flexed his arm, dropping a blade into his hand. She’d have to get him to teach her that trick later. 

Hermione nudged the trunk open with her foot and slid Matilda into it. Thankful for undetectable expansion charms. “You don’t say? I was hoping for a more specific answer.”

Tapping her wand on the display cases she sent them into the trunk, trusting the runes to sort them into the proper places. The burners had to cool before she could store them. The potions ingredients were packed almost absentmindedly, and returned to the trunk. 

Someone screamed, panic rode over the market like a wave, the crowd tried to scatter, couldn’t and turned on itself. Throwing themselves down the isles blindly, trying to find the exit. 

“Are you armed?” Draco didn’t spare her a glance as he shifted around the nearly empty table. He snarled at the first few strangers, they swerved to avoid him and the crowd followed.

“We’ve met before, correct?” She closed the trunk, buckles snapping shut. Placing both hands on her chest Hermione ran them down, over her thin jumper. It shifted, metal weaving around the cotton fibers growing upward to protect her throat and down over her thighs, it split on the sides to allow movement. Her armor was red with a black collar and arms. The shoulders studded with short spikes. Her pant legs flared around her boots to mask her kicks. Lastly she pulled a dagger from her beaded bag. Whatever was coming, she was ready. 

Draco’s clothes twisted around him, similar armor growing over him until he was sheathed in solid black, The collar rose just below his jaw, but made a sharp V in front. Vampire’s fought with their fangs was much as their more conventional weapons. The white of his eyes bled red, pupil blowing until it enveloped the grey iris. His fangs lengthed. People saw him and screamed, flinching from his gaze and squeezing past as quickly as they could. 

A silver beast cut through the crowd, making a beeline for her and Draco. He didn’t have to fight the current, people took one look at him and moved out of his way. Like a shark in the midst of a school of fish. Dudley had arrived. He stopped beside Draco and flicked his ears back, growling. Hermione mentally patted herself on the back for taking the migraine potion. 

Dudley, like Harry, had three forms he could take. It was a gift that all alpha werewolves shared. But where Harry was built for speed, Dudley was made to hold the bridge. If an American football coach got a good look at him, he’d think Dudley was an escaped linebacker. And that was in his human skin, the wolf was bigger still. A true monster. 

“Vho invited vou?” Draco asked around his fangs, without taking his eyes off the thinning crowd. 

“Your mother.” Dudley snickered as he took his place beside them. Leaning forward, he shifted his feet and and bared his teeth. 

A dark miasma spread along the ceiling, bursting fluorescent lights as it touched them. Glass and powder rained down in a series of sharp pops. Hermione sent a few bluebells swirling around their feet, the flames dimmed as low as she dared. Neither Draco or Dudley needed the light, but she did. 

The darkness screamed, swallowing the remaining light. Ice clawed its way down Hermione's spine. The bluebells sputtered and dimmed to a soft bluish shimmer. 

~oOo~


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has her laptop back? That's right! Its fixed and we now return to our regularly scheduled programming!  
This chapter contains HEAVY BLOOD AND GORE. Enjoy.

**Chapter 7**

Bright flashes of spell fire lit up the east side of the building. Hermione leant forward, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. Already regretting wearing boots. Draco barred her way with his arm, palm turned toward her. 

“Shh,” He cautioned, keeping his eyes on the spell work. “Just wait.”

Dudley’s ears twitched. 

Hermione spun towards him just as Draco whipped around, wrapping both arms around Hermione’s waist he sprung up like a rocket. Clutching her tightly to his chest. For a moment she was weightless, stomach fluttering in her throat. 

A dark grey creature leapt out of the shadows, impossibly long arms raking across the werewolf’s chest. Dudley stumbled backward directly into where Hermione had stood a moment before. They landed on the neighboring table, jewelry crunching underfoot. Draco ducked around her and leaped into the fray. 

Hermione flung her arm forward, twirling her wand tip in a tight spiral, “Defodio!” The curse unfurled from her wand in a pink whip. 

The creature dropped, kicking Dudley’s legs out from under him. Draco’s blade flashed, the creature roared, a massive hand catching Draco in the chest sending him sprawling. For a second it stood still in the light of the curse and Hermione got a clear look at it. 

Easily ten feet tall, its body mostly covered in short grey fur. A lipless mouth bared a forest of shark teeth. It had no nose, only an open hole where one should be. The eyes were snow white and pupiless. Lacking eyebrows the forehead sloped back sharply, the back of its head covered in long white hair that sheathed its entire back. Two set of arms, one human like pair tucked close to the ribs, and the outer, longer pair, where its claws nearly touched the ground.

The curse slapped the floor gouging the cement. The Demon turned, swiping its dagger length claws at her. Hermione scooted backward, fake gems rolled under her heels. The world bucked, claws scraped her armor, air whoosed out of her lungs as she landed. 

Get up. Get up. Get up. She rolled, hitting the floor in a crouch as the table disintegrated above her. 

“Everte Statum!” 

This time she didn’t miss. The Demon’s feet lifted as the hex threw it backward. Dudley tackled it from the side, claws tearing into its ribs. Bones crunched as he chomped down on its shoulder. Draco appeared in a rush of magic, half his face a blistering purple, and sank his blade into the Demon’s back. 

Draco screamed as thick spines tore into his arms. Hermione lurched, screaming with him. The Demon’s second set of arms tore into Dudley’s unprotected torso, ripping out bloody chunks of flesh. With its remaining outer arm it grabbed Draco’s head and pulled him off its back. Slamming him into the ground. She watched his blond head bounce off the cement with a wet crack. The Demon lifted a tree trunk leg and stomped. 

“Carpe retractum!” Draco slid toward her. She didn’t look at him; couldn’t risk falling apart while Dudley was being torn to pieces right in front of her. “Flippendo!”

The Demon rocked back a step. Hermione hit it again. And again. 

“Glacius!” Ice blasted its chest. The Demon shook it off and advanced. Blood pooled under them, Dudley sagged in its grip.

“Locomotor Wibbly!” She sobbed, tears obscuring her target. The Demon tossed Dudley’s limp body at her, she dodged and screamed, “Ossium Reducto!”

It was gone. 

~oOo~

The entire attack took minutes. A mass of people crowded at the door, trying to flee and trampling the few poor souls that fell. Hermione Spun in a slow circle, wand at the ready. But the Demon was gone. 

“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die!” Hermione chanted under her breath as she pulled every single healing potion out of her beaded bag. 

Headache. Upset Stomach. Bruise Balm. Heartburn. Burn paste. Dittany. Sleep. Wait, she plucked up a smudged vial, bloody fingerprints standing out starkly against the white label. If she had Dittany then she should have, a blood replenisher. And Skele Gro. 

She shoved her entire arm into the bag, blindly groping for vials. Her fingers skimmed metal. Her heart skipped. She pushed her shoulder deeper into the bag, fingers slipping off the edge. Come on, just a little closer, you sonovabitch!

Metal slapped her palm. YES! 

She threw herself back, boots sliding in blood, she teetered and caught herself. An old, large metal canteen, roughly the size of her face but very thin, was in her hand. Star Grass Salve. It took a full year to brew, with ingredients that had to be grown at home and imbued with the brewers magic. Then the ingredients had to be left under the light of the full moon to dry before being prepared and added to the potion. The end result was a thick snow white non-newtonian fluid; that was liquid until touched. It had been a christmas gift from her Godfather, a promise to teach her how to brew it. Next time she saw Severus she was going to kiss him! 

Draco lay to the right of her, ribs crushed and face bloodless and grey. The bruise, once an angry purple, was now a pale mauve. His chest was still. No hint of breath, no signs of healing. Vampires healed faster than humans, but even for them if the damage was too great…

She pried his mouth open. Careful not to slice the pads of her fingers on his still distended fangs. Vampires weren’t supposed to consume the blood of their relatives. Not under any circumstances; not even if facing certain death. She poured the entire vial of Skele Gro into his mouth. He had no open wounds, the Star Grass Salve would do nothing for him. 

“Come on, Draco swallow it! _ Please! _” 

She dropped the empty vial, it shattered at her feet. She didn’t care. Trembling, she massaged his throat, forcing him to swallow the potion. He did. She gasped, biting and swallowing air. How long had she been holding her breath? Tucking the canteen under her arm she stumbled to Dudley’s side. Thick ropes of his intestines spilled onto the floor, bloody and pink. Heat wafted off him in waves. 

Dudley’s flesh trembled and crawled. His body already working to heal him. She popped the lid off the canteen and a seam on the sides opened with a hiss. She lifted the top like a compact and scoped some of the salve onto her fingers. Magic nipped her as she painted the torn flesh and exposed organs. She worked her way across his lower belly, begging him not to move. His intestines shivered and slid up into his body cavity with a wet slurp. Hermione gagged. 

His chest was next. Exposed bone gleamed in the fluorescent lighting, his entire left rib cage was exposed. The rubbery lung deflated like a basketball. His rasping, breaths came out like coughs. A human would have already suffocated. She scooped up more salve and got to work.

Sirens wailed. She was running out of time. They were too heavy for her to carry. She had to leave. Couldn’t leave them. She could take exactly one of them with her if she apparated, but apparition was costly. She’d be unable to return for the other. If she took Draco, then Dudley would be blamed for the attack. Police would storm the market, find him and kill him. What an easy mark he would make. “Look,” They would say, “A werewolf went crazy and attacked. Case closed.” She couldn’t leave Dudley. Wouldn’t leave either of them. 

Hermione flicked her wrist, and the trunk zoomed to her side. She ripped it open and levitated first Dudley and then Draco into it. 

“Please work. Please, please work!”

She snapped the lid shut, latched the clasps shut. Looped her hand around the handle, closed her eyes and spun on her heel.

~oOo~

Hermione landed in the driveway with a loud pop! Harry was in the front, a huge umbrella imbedded in the ground and all four kids under it with him. Riley played in her exersaucer, and Greyson and James sat on Harry's back as he did push ups. Mia had a sight words book open in her lap and was flipping through the cardboard pages. Fairy lights were strung around the umbrella. They should all be in bed. 

"Hermione?" Harry froze halfway through a push up, "Jesus Christ! Look at me kids, time for bed!"

Hermione dropped the trunk and blindly opened it. Ignoring the bloody handprints all over the lid and latches. She flipped it open and dove inside. Dudley growled at her approach, eyes still closed but aware enough to sense her. 

All she could smell was the metallic tang of blood. It coated her, seeping into her skin. She could taste it on her tongue. She pulled Draco up, her back and thighs screaming as she lifted him into a fireman's carry. Dudley kept growling, he probably couldn’t smell her. Her world narrowed to each step. Inhale, step. Exhale, step. Up the short stairs and over the lip of the trunk. Never had she been more appreciative of the storage room in it than now. 

Her vision swam, exhaustion slapping her. Feet spun in front of her. Someone was speaking but she couldn’t make out the words. Draco’s weight shifted. 

“NO!”

Slowly, as if from far away words trickled into her ears. 

“Its okay, love. I got him.”

Harry. 

She let him take Draco off her shoulders. 

“I’ll get Dudley patched up. Go shower. Its ok.”

She nodded and stumbled toward the house. The shower breathed life into her addled mind. It took her half an hour to scrub all the blood off her legs where it had soaked through her jeggings. She loved those pants. All the freedom of movement that leggings offered and still looked like a pair of jeans. 

Pepper up was better than coffee and she’d fight anyone who disagreed. It tasted like shite though and coffee didn’t make steam come out of her ears. So maybe they were equal afterall. She couldn’t exactly fight herself. She chased the potion with a cup of dark roast. Both thoughtfully left on the bathroom counter by Harry. 

The potion, or perhaps caffeine. Maybe even both. Worked to wake her up and mend the mild magical exhaustion. She sat on the edge of the tub, wrapped in a dinosaur beach towel. Hair dripping, leaving tiny puddles all over the floor. She ran the fight over her head again and again. What she did, what she could have done differently. She needed out of her own head. She pulled on a shirt and short pajama set, left her hair to drip dry and went in search of her brother.

The first guest room had an awake and very naked human Dudley, being partially mummified with bandages, by Harry. Both of them grumbled and hissed as Harry pulled the bandages taunt. 

Draco was stripped to his waist, his chest a solid black bruise. The unbruised half of his face had regained some color. Tinting the grey closer to green. Hermione’s throat closed, she swallowed painfully. Fighting the urge to cry. He was alive. 

“Mama?” A tiny voice squeaked, Greyson stood at the bottom of the stairs a book in his hands. “Read to me? Please?”

“Yes baby,” She whispered, “I’ll be right up.” 

~oOo~

Hermione pulled her heavy blanket over herself and sighed. She loved central air. Didn’t matter how hot it was outside, she could use her mink Batman blanket to her heart's content. Cooling charms were great but they never lasted long enough. All she wanted was for the room to be cold at night, and her bed to be warm. 

The bathroom door locked with a soft click and Harry walked through the connecting door. Soft yellow light washed over him, highlighting his damp hair and broad shoulders. A towel wrapped loosely around his waist, held up only by his hand. He locked the bedroom door and let the towel drop. 

Droplets of water clung to his chest, and a few trailed down over his abs and lower still. Hermione followed the droplet with her eyes, humming in approval. Harry was gorgeous, all hard lines and firm muscles. She shivered and bit her lip.

Harry smirked, gold swirling within the green of his eyes, “Like what you see?”

“Always.” Hermione wet her lips, “How do you want me?”

“How do you want to be taken?” Harry reached over and ripped the blanket off her

. She wore a blue halter dress, with dark pink flowers that covered her breasts, and worked around in a spiral over her hip. The dress reached mid thigh. Harry growled lowly in appreciation. She laughed and rolled onto her stomach, kicking her feet up and crossing her ankles. 

Harry smoothed the dress over her hips, and straddled her legs. Cupping her ass in his hands, he squeezed gently. Slowly he rolled the hem of the dress up, flexing his hips as he went, rubbing the head of his cock on her soft skin. He kneaded her cheeks, nestling his cock between them and thrusting softly. 

“I could get off just like this,” He thrust again, cupping her cheeks around his cock, teasing her rim with the blunt head. He pulled her dress down, over his cock and watched himself thrust. He leaned over her, kissing and niping the back of her neck. “One of these days I should take your ass. Would you like that? My big cock destroying your little asshole?”

“_ Yes, _” Hermione moaned, drawing the word out. 

He sat up and smacked her ass, “Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered beneath him. 

Harry bit her shoulder, then kissed it. Hermione hissed at the slight pain. He peppered her back with kisses and nips, working his way down. He palmed a cheek over the dress and pinched. Hermione squeaked, then moaned as he bit her over the dress. 

Alarm bells rang in her head as the ward stone burst out of the floor, glowing scarlet. Harry rolled off her with a snarl, tossing clothes at her as he shifted. Hermione tugged on a pair of spandex shorts, summoned her wand and leapt from the bed. 

**Bang!Bang!Bang!**

Who the hell would be at the door at this time of night? Hermione pushed Harry toward the kids rooms and stabbed a finger at Dudley when he opened the guest room door. Dudley raised both hands, palms forward and retreated as she passed him. The last thing she needed tonight was for him to get hurt again.

Hermione opened the door.

Bellatrix Black leant against the doorframe, arms crossed and examining her nails. “Hello Daughter,” She said with a grin, “Miss me?”

~oOo~


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might end up being longer than originally anticipated... I don't think 10 chapters is going to cut it for the amount that's going on.

**Chapter 8 - **

They stood on the porch next to the hidden Potion storeroom door. As far from the kids bedrooms as they could get without standing on the lawn. Not that Hermione would mind the lawn, or even fully outside the wards. 

Hermione angled herself between her mother and the house. Bellatrix grinned and raised an eyebrow. “How have you been?”

“You didn’t seriously stop by at three am just for small talk?” Hermione scoffed.

“I see your father raised you to mirror his dry wit. Children live to disappoint you it seems.”

Hermione clenched her jaw and counted to ten in her head. “Why have one then?” She ground out, barely keeping the venom from spilling out.

“I wanted to have that one last fully human experience. Seeing my older sister glowing and round and far happier than I’d ever seen her.” Bellatrix shook the wistful expression off her face and leaned against the porch railing, “It was nothing to potion Lucius into bed. I had such dreams for you, and us. We could rule together as Mother and Daughter. I’d even let you keep your werewolf and the wytchlings.”

“Or you could come back here. Meet your grandchildren and get to know me. We don’t have to fight, there are more than just two choices.” Hermione raised a brow and crossed her arms. 

Bellatrix shrugged delicately, tipping her head and giving Hermione an appraising look. Almost as if seeing her for the first time. “The blood bred true, looking at you is like seeing a younger, more innocent and naive version of myself. I never should have let your father take you. Had I raised you myself, this conversation would be moot.” 

“Frankly I like how I turned out.” Hermione put some steel into her voice, “And I love my children. Something you would do well to learn.”

Bellatrix threw her head back and cackled. When script writers and movie directors thought of a witches laugh, they wished their actresses could pour as much spine tingling creepiness into it as Bellatrix did. The Wicked Witch had nothing on her. 

“Had I not loved you, you foolish child, You would be tied to a stake in the yard watching as your hovel burned to the ground with all your mutts trapped inside.” 

Hermione drew her wand but Bellatrix was faster. Wand tip pressed to the soft flesh under her chin Hermione froze. 

“Ah-ah. So close you were to actually impressing me. Watch closely now,” Bellatrix’s skin tore, dark grey fur bristling through, she grew. Up and up until Hermione had to crane her neck back to see Bellatrix’s face. A Second set of arms emerged, tucked close to the chest as the first set lengthed. 

Dagger-like claws burst from her fingertips, somehow the wand at Hermione's throat didn’t waiver. Her black hair straightened and turned silver arching over her back, it grew to sheath her arms and thighs. Hermione new from experience that spikes hid within the coarse hair. Lastly her face split, lips melting baring serrated teeth and nose receding until only bat like slits remained. 

Hermione gagged as her mother’s smaller set of hands cupped her face. “This is what true power looks like! Join me Hermione, embrace your birthright!”

“Yes, mother.” Hermione suppressed a shudder and laid her hand over her mothers, “How foolish I’ve been. Could I have a few days to set my affairs in order? Please, then I’ll join you.”

The Demon grinned impossibly wide, “I’ll give you two days. Be ready when I return.” Bellatrix released her face and turned, steel cable muscles bunched in her thighs and she leapt over the railing and into the woods. 

A moment later the wards chimed and Hermione dropped. Trembling and gasping. She couldn’t breathe, her vision tunneled and ears rang. Heart pounding out of her chest, one painful thump at a time. Hermione sobbed, biting at the air. 

Yellow and Green swirled in front of her. Someone was calling her name. Warm hands held her own. A deep soothing voice. She couldn’t make out the words. She was moved away from the side of the house and pulled against something warm and hard. Drums beat in her ears as her head was pressed against rough material. A jumper? 

Years passed and the drums kept playing a steady ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! The elephant on her chest stood and she drew her first deep breath. 

“... halfway over Dudley’s foot slipped and he flailed. Grabbing my shirt and dragging me down with him. We landed face first in a pond. Covered in muck with the coppers still tailing us. I grabbed the back of Dudley’s jumper and dragged him out of the mud. We stumbled for a bit and hit the treeline. We climbed a tree, just as the cops made it over the fence. We hugged that tree ‘till dawn. Petunia was blue mad when we got home. But it was worth it, seeing The Cranberries live was the most fun we’d had in a long time.” Harry cradled her to his chest and rocked gently side to side, his tone quiet and calm. 

“You saw The Cranberries live and this is the first I'm hearing of it?” The drums spiked for a second and settled back into their rhythm. His heart, it dawned on her. She blinked and looked up at him. 

“Well to be fair we’ve never talked about concerts.” Harry kept rocking, “Are you going to join your mother?”

“Yes Harry, when faced with a demon and given the choice of having the love of my life and my children burned to death, I’m just going to roll over.” Hermione drawled shakily, “What do you think?!”

Harry growled deep in his chest, “I’ll make some calls.”

~oOo~

Hermione sat at the kitchen table with Greyson, James and Riley. The remnants of waffles spread out before them like a crime scene. Puddles of blueberry syrup splattered the table and in one especially large, but mind boggling case, the wall. How exactly the syrup got there was a mystery, but it was there now and she was going to have to clean it. Hermione absolutely did not want to clean it. She wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for several more hours. 

She would have gotten away with sleeping too if it wasn’t for three meddling kids climbing into bed at the dawn of stupid, and then a mangy mutt ringing the doorbell. 

While Harry had been coaxing her down from a panic attack, Dudley had been quietly calling in reinforcements. His entire pack was converging upon them. And one such member had the bright idea to ring the bell and announce themselves. Cold blooded murder never looked so good. Harry had put the kibosh to that though. Apparently if you start killing off your allies, no one will want to help you; who knew? 

Hermione eyed her empty mug. Would another cup of coffee help or hinder? Syrup stained the handle purple, guaranteeing a sticky palm if she picked it up. She smothered a yawn. Worth it. Picking up the plain mug, she winced at the cool squish of the syrup under her hand, and went to refill it. 

The coffee maker was thankfully still warm, and a stack of freshly folded dishcloths sat next to it. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Greyson reach for the Syrup, again. Not today, satan! Hermione whipped two cloths off the counter, soaked them under the tap and threw them at the boys. They landed with a wet smack. Both boys jumped, Greyson thankfully turned away from the syrup.

“Hey!” She pushed excitement into her voice from the bottom of her exhausted soul, “Who wants to help Mummy?” 

“I do! I do!” They chorused together. Riley slapped the tray of her highchair and squealed, bouncing a little. 

“First one to wipe up the table fastest gets a treat!” She opened the cupboard over the stove and pointed to a box of assorted candy. 

Both boys lunged for the cloths at the same time. Hermione summoned the plates and condiments. Sorting them away while stirring cream into her coffee. Soft laughter drifted from the living room. Hermine shot a look of pure smugness into the sunken room.

Harry sat on the floor chuckling, his back pressed against the couch and legs spread in a wide V. Mia sat between them, staring intently at her green cased tablet. Her tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated. An entire rainbows worth of hair ties were scattered around them. At some point they had raided a Dollar store and didn’t mention it. Mia’s hair was sectioned off into four braids, and Harry gently worked on the fifth. 

~oOo~

The forest was teeming with life. Birds sang, rodents scurried about. The air smelled fresh and earthy. Hermione sat in a patch of dappled shade and buried her fingers in freshly turned dirt. Greyson crouched across from her, his hands submerged up to his wrists. 

“Like this mama?” He wiggled his fingers, eyes narrowed and mouth firm.

“Relax your shoulders,” Hermione inhaled deeply and made a show of slouching, “Just like this. Watch me.” She did it again, Greyson copying her exactly.

“Perfect! Now do you remember the cup theory?”

Greyson nodded seriously. “I have a cup full of magic in my belly.”

“Yes, and what happens when we close our eyes and take deep breaths?”

“More magic goes in it.” He watched a beetle scurry over his hidden hands and bent lower to get a better look.

“You are so smart Greyson! That’s a lot to remember and look at you! Getting it on your first try.” Hermione gushed. 

Greyson’s entire face lit up and he smiled from ear to ear.

“Alright, now take a few deep breaths, and let the cup fill until its overflowing...” Hermione leaned closer to him, dropping into a whisper. “Good, just like that. Can you let the magic flow down your arms?”

“Tickles,” Greyson huffed, trying not to laugh. 

“Yes it does. You are doing great. Can you feel it in your fingers?” Greyson nodded, and Hermione grinned. “Good, now push the magic into the dirt.”

He screwed his eyes shut tighter and slowly a sprout emerged from the dirt. It spiralled up, two tiny leaves taking shape. 

“That's enough Greyson. Open your eyes and look.”

Greyson squinted and blinked rapidly. His eyes straining against the sunlight. Hermione pulled her fingers from the earth and brushed clinging dirt off. Greyson looked down at his hands and gasped.

“Its a plant!” He gaped.

“You made it grow,” Hermione dug her phone out of a pocket and snapped a picture. “Congratulations! You did magic for the first time!”

“I did! We gotta tell daddy!” He leapt to his feet, careful not to step on his new plant.

“Yes we do. Why don’t we go do that and I can check on Uncle Draco.” 

Greyson froze, gaze fixed just over her shoulder. The hair on Hermione’s neck stood on end, the space between her shoulder blades itched. Greyson paled. Hermione turned to look over her shoulder. The forest stilled. Shadows slid within the treeline,their forms sleek and movement quiet, heading straight towards them.. 

Hermione lifted her arm and reached toward Greyson. “Take my hand, and move very, very slowly.”

His fingers touched her own, Hermione closed her hand over his and kept her arm rigid. The shadows moved closer still. She drew Greyson closer, tucking him close as she turned to face the trees. He clutched at her shirt, trembling. She bared her teeth in a feral snarl and woke the Stone Guardians with a thought. 

Her and Greyson were at the edge of their property, just inside the wards. Unfortunately the shadows were also within her wards. The nearest Stone Guardians were stationed at the driveway and house. A solid ten minute hike away. They’d make within five minutes, but Hermione wasn’t sure if they had that kind of time.

“No matter what,” Hermione said as she drew her wand, “Stay behind me. Keep you hands on my back so I can feel you. Do you understand?

“Yes mama.” Greyson whimpered.

The shadows solidified and massed together for a moment before spreading out. When this was over Hermione was going to take Greyson to get his eyes checked. How he’d managed to notice them within the shade of the forest was beyond her.

She could just make out wedge shaped heads and long muzzles if she squinted. At least six feet long, not including the tails she could see. Over four feet tall at the shoulder. They wove around each other and she couldn’t tell where one ended and another began.

Hermione rose from a crouch in one fluid motion. She dug the heels of her hiking boots into the dirt and thanked herself for deciding to wear them despite the heat. Greyson moved with her. She was going to give him so much ice cream when they got home. And tell him how proud of him she was. 

Something snorted and Hermione scowled. What were they doing? Having a friendly debate?

One peeled away from the others and approached, head and body low. He crept into a pool of sunlight. A wolf. Silver fur, streaked through with reds and browns. He pinned his ears and wagged his bushy tail. 

“Seamus, you absolute arsehole! Who else is out there with you and what the hell are you doing creeping up on me in my woods?!”

Dudley’s second wagged his tail harder, tilted his head and showing his throat he wiggled closer. Four other werewolves followed, much more subdued but no less apologetic. Hermione didn’t know their names. Yet. Two dark brownish grey, one almost the same silver as Dudley and one snow white, and nearly glowing. All wolves were supposedly different. And after enough time together Hermione figured she’d eventually be able to tell them all apart. As it was she only knew Seamus because he was the fool who woke her up that morning. 

“You scared my kid! What the fuck? You’re lucky I’m not a werewolf or i’d shift right now and thrash the lot of you.” Hermione snapped. “Greyson, honey. It's alright, these are some of Uncle Dudley’s packmates. I think they’d make particularly warm coats. What about you?”

Greyson peered around her hip, “Scaring us is not nice!” 

“Don’t worry my love. They’ll pay for this.”

Seamus flinched, tucking his tail. Hermione laughed and sent the Stone Guardians back to their posts. 

“Lets go and tell daddy all about our adventure today.”

“Do you think Uncle Draco is awake?” Greyson asked as he slipped his hand into Hermione's and held on with an iron grip.

“I hope so.” 

~oOo~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking on a game trail through the woods with a pack of werewolves as some sort of honor guard -Ghosting along behind and beside them, keeping mostly to the shadows and every few minutes dipping into their line of sight- was a brand new experience for Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to GMGaby. Thank you for the most beautiful and thought provoking comments! You make me smile and I sincerely hope this chapter brings you joy. 
> 
> Todays chapter is late because I needed to rewrite it. During my pre-posting read through, it didn't jive with me and I had to nearly start from scratch. This chapter is shorter than the others but its all I have to work with.

Walking on a game trail through the woods with a pack of werewolves as some sort of honor guard -Ghosting along behind and beside them, keeping mostly to the shadows and every few minutes dipping into their line of sight- was a brand new experience for Hermione. 

After the initial shock, Greyson warmed up to the strange wolves’ presence and started to play ‘Spot the werewolf.” A game which Hermione was sure the wolves were playing too. Occasionally there would be a flicker of movement, a snapping twig and huffs of lupine laughter. 

A deep blue maelstrom swirled throughout the house and spilled into the yard. Swirling and crackling with bolts of deep red vampiric magic. Hermione paused, clenching Greyson’s little hand in hers. 

Her father had arrived.

The magic washed over them and Hermione sighed, dropping her shields she let her magic dance with her fathers. The two auras intertwining. Greyson’s magic, younger but no less strong, flared between them until the maelstrom was so saturated with color, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. Blues, reds, oranges and dark purple. The perfect dusk. 

Hermione reeled her magic in as she opened the door. Greyson instinctively following suit. Of which she was glad because teaching him to shield his magic was damn near impossible at his age. Greyson was learning at an accelerated rate and Hermione worried that she wouldn’t be able to teach him as fast as he needed. 

Wixen hid their auras from the moment magic bloomed within them. So some that was at birth, others while they were within the womb, and others still at an older age. The Witch hunts had taught magic to shield herself and she would never again allow a child of magic to be killed for simply being born. Magic protected her own. 

Inside, the house was immaculate. Through the swirling magic she could see the freshly swept floor and the slightly overflowing trash can. The front hall was clear of shoes and the closet door was closed. The stairs sported absolutely no toys, a miracle she was sure. And it was quiet. Harry could have the kids out back. She shrugged. A clean house was something to be enjoyed. Not questioned. 

Greyson kicked his trainers off and scrambled into the bathroom. Hermione pushed the dirt encrusted shoes to the side and strode deeper into the house. She found her father exactly where she expected him to be. 

Leaning in the doorway of Draco’s room. A deep frown maring his normally pleasant expression. For once he stood alone. No grandchild on his hip or in his arms. He stared blankly at Draco’s still form.

Hermione's heart ached. She had done this. If she had listened to Harry and decided to stay home, then Draco would be awake and snarking at Dudley. And Dudley wouldn’t have had his abdomen torn open and his insides rudely introduced to the outside world. 

But maybe, if she had stayed home, her mother would have come to the house anyway. And it would be Harry ripped up and near death, and herself on the bed. No one knowing if she would wake or survive even. And she didn’t have the healing of either a vampire or a werewolf. 

How long would it have taken someone to check on them? Would the children have survived the fight? 

“Stop.” 

Hermione nearly jumped. 

Lucius tilted his head toward her and continued softly, “This is not your fault. Bellatrix is unpredictable at best and utterly insane at worst. Or at least that was how I knew her. She’s brilliant, but her drive for power is unmatched.”

“I shouldn’t have called him. I-”

“No!” He faced her fully, squaring his shoulders, “Either way, I would be standing here, begging the Gods that my child wakes. You or Draco. Bella did this to send a message.” 

Lucius snarled and whirled, red tinting the whites of his eyes, he began to pace. “She attacks both of my children, and threatens my grandchildren.” A deep growl rumbled in his chest, his magic swirling faster and faster, lifting the ends of his hair until it moved on its own. “You have the entire strength of my seethe behind you. I swear to you, Bellatrix will not harm a single hair on your children's heads.” 

Hermione lunged catching him mid step, and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. All the fear and anger boiling under the surface froze. In her father's arms she was safe from the world. He hugged her back, the magic stilling and slowly receding. 

“I have an idea on how to help Draco.” She said into his chest. “There is a healing potion, it has two parts which is incredibly rare in potions. But, I can brew them both. The first potion is actually the hardest, because he needs to be submerged in a solution of star grass and a few other herbs. But the potion itself is liquid gold in the healing department. It’s blood based, so we should both draw some blood, and then-”

“No.” Lucius stiffened and stepped away, his arms moving to her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. “You are  _ not  _ to brew that potion.”

Hermione reeled as if slapped. “What do you mean no? It could save his life!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’d rather he die? Are you truly so similar to Bellatrix?”

Lucius snarled, hurt and rage swirling within his darkening eyes as the grey gave way to crimson. “I forbid it.”

Hermione shrugged off his hands and swore. Stabbing a finger at him she growled lowly, “You’ll regret this!”

She whirled on her heel and stormed away.

~oOo~

Draco had not woken up. He lay in the guest bedroom, just as still and silent as ever. Hermione crawled onto the bed and settled in beside him, draping her arm over his waist. She could hear Dudley threw the wall, giving his pack a thorough tongue lashing over the fright they gave her and Greyson. She still didn’t know who was who, neither Dudley nor Harry had been willing to snitch. Which was fine. She could just curse them all into next week. 

The rage that had fueled her all day died as she rested her head on Draco’s shoulder. Her father had kept his distance from her for hours, and she had fully immersed herself in research. All of it said the same thing. Either Draco would wake up, or he would perish. 

She needed him to wake up. Fear coiled in her belly, icy and heavy. She had never known a single day without him. They were only nine months apart. She talked to him at least once a day and he went out of his way to visit. 

They protected each other. Once in primary school, a bully had punched her in the face, knocking out her front bottom tooth. Draco had come out of nowhere tackling the much larger boy, pinning him to the ground and beat him bloody. A teacher had to pull Draco off, and for the rest of the year that bully flinched whenever Draco walked by. 

They hassled each other relentlessly. Teasing and snipping. Their fights stopped being violent once they each school age, but the verbal bashing and name calling had yet to fully end. However, the heat had long since diminished. 

Hermione rested her head on Draco’s shoulder. He needed to wake up. She needed him. Never before had she felt so hopeless.

~oOo~

“Do you know why Vampires do not feed on family?” 

Hermione scrubbed her cheeks with her sleeve and leaned up on her elbow to look at her father. Lucius had Riley in his arms and rocked gently side to side, the baby girl’s head nodding as she fought sleep.

“Because the blood is too close, its nearly cannibalism.” She settled back into the bed, her arm draped over Draco’s torso, her head on his undamaged shoulder. 

“Close.” Lucius nodded, “It has to do with magic as well. Every living creature has its own magic. Some can access and wield it. Others cannot. When a Vampire is turned, the magic in their blood either awakens, or strengthens. The Malfoy’s have a wealthy magical background, especially the Vampires. The Black’s have magical power in spades. Now with you and Draco being half-siblings- and what a worthless expression that is. Siblings are siblings, the ratios shouldn’t matter!- but I digress, If your blood mingled with Draco’s Vampiric magic he would be fueled with exorbitant amounts of power, and driven insane.”

Lucius shifted Riley so that her belly rested on his arm, and her head in the crook of his elbow, she blinked slowly. Nearly asleep. “He would awaken as an abomination, craving not the residual magic within blood, but the active magic within a person's core. His physiology would change so that when he fed, it would be directly from the core. Over time his body would change to better feed, his nose would shrink, lips peel back and fangs grow. Until only a shadow of what he used to be would remain. There is no cure, only death would stop him. We, the vampires, have only witnessed this change a handful of times. Each took entire seethes to put down.” He leant forward, looking Hermione directly in the eye. “I know you want to help him.  _ I want to help him.  _ I would lay down my life, and sacrifice my immortal soul right this minute if I knew it would save him. But if you give him a healing potion based on your blood, you are sentencing him to a fate worse than death.” 

~oOo~


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why does Bellatrix want me to join her? Why now, after all these years is she suddenly interested in me?” 
> 
> “That,” Lucius steepled his fingers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is an excellent question. But first-”
> 
> “I swear on all that is holy if you say, “Let me take a selfie,” I will hex you bald for a year.”
> 
> Lucius gaped, horrified. “Absolutely not! Do you honestly believe me to be so immature that I-”
> 
> “Yes.” Hermione cut in, her voice icy enough to drop the temperature in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did the chapter count go up? Oh yes it did. But only by 2.

**Chapter 10 **

The dawn of the second day had Hermione and Harry packing the kids into Petunia’s van. It wasn’t safe for them to be at the house. Bellatrix wasn’t known for taking oaths seriously and it wasn’t a risk they were willing to take. Petunia stood off to the side with Lucius. Hermione couldn’t hear what they were saying but Lucius had already talked his plan over with Harry, Dudley and herself.

Lucius wanted to send Severus and a few other vampires to her residence. Protection for her and the children. Dudley was sending a few wolves as well. But the entire plan hinged on Petunia agreeing. So the two grandparents had retreated to talk it over. 

The sun was barely kissing the sky, all four kids were drowsy and blinking owlishly. Crookshanks yowled whoafully from his carrier. He was going too. The kids needed him. And Hermione didn’t want him to perish in the fighting if they were attacked.

Dudley and Seamus carried out two large boxes. In black marker on the side they were labeled “toys” and “clothes.” Hermione knew every single article in both boxes. She had packed them herself. Taped to the inside of “toys,” was a copy of her and Harry’s wills. Stating that Custody of the children go to Dudley and Draco, Petunia and Lucius. Inside “clothes,” were four sealed envelopes, each bearing the name of a child. She and Harry had both written a letter, filled with parental pride, advice for their future, and all the love they could pack into it. 

It wasn’t enough. Would never be enough. Hermione wiped her hands over her cheeks, plastered on an excited smile and went to kiss her babies goodbye.

~oOo~

Petunia waited next to the open door of her van. The blue paint was shiny and sparkled as the first rays of sun hit it, reflecting onto her cream blouse. The sleeves were ruffled and short; it was the first time Hermione had ever seen Petunia with her arms bare. She was even wearing jean shorts. No jewelry adorned her narrow wrists, or sparkled at her earlobes. Her hair fell in blonde waves to her shoulders, not a hint of grey to be had within them. 

It struck Hermione suddenly, just how _ young _ Petunia was. Nearing fifty, but she didn’t look it. Both Harry and Dudley had young parents, a fact Hermione knew but hadn’t fully realized until then. At least she was young enough to chase after and enjoy the children. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said over the painful thumping of her heart. “We couldn’t do this without you. I don’t even know how to begin thanking you-”

“There is no need.” Petunia wrung her hands and tried to smile. It came out closer to an amused grimace. “I have a playroom set up for them, and I even went out and bought a cat tree! They will be safe with me and Dudley’s wolves, Hermione. Just survive this. All three of you. Please.” 

“We will mum.” Dudley slid around Hermione and opened his arms. Acutely aware of his size and unfortunate resemblance to his father, Dudley made a point of inviting his mother into his space. Never stepping into hers. 

Petunia pulled Dudley into a hug. They held each other for a long minute and when they parted Petunia’s eyes were red, but tearless. She held up her arms and motioned Harry forward for a hug of his own. 

After a moment it was Hermione’s turn to be hugged. She stepped into the older woman's embrace and held her tightly. Petunia kissed her temple and whispered, so low it was almost inaudible, “I love you, come back to us.”

Hermione hugged her tighter. She wouldn’t make a promise that she might not be able to keep. Taking a shuddering breath they pulled away. Clutching each other's forearms, they took a last moment of comfort. 

The front door slammed open and Seamus, with his impeccable timing for fragile moments, burst through it. He hovered on the step as if just realizing that _ something _ had been taking place. He frowned for a second and bellowed. 

“Draco’s awake.”

Hermione dropped Petunia’s arms like a bad habit. Ironically, she couldn’t do the same to her actual bad habits. Seamus yelled after her, but she ignored him. Rocketed into the house and skid to a stop at Draco’s bedroom door. 

Draco was sitting up, eyes wide open and swirling with red. A werewolf was half bent over the side of his bed, her arm caught in the vice of Draco’s hands, and held against his mouth. He gulped and gasped through his nose. A cup was upturned on the blanket, a damp spot growing around it.

The wolf, a woman of asian decent, saw Hermione and flinched. Or she tried to anyway. Draco growled and jerked her arm, pulling her further onto the bed. With each swallow color returned to his cheeks and the mangled, lumpy mess that was the back of his head smoothed. The bones melting and reforming. 

“Aw, shit.” Harry groaned from somewhere behind her. “Dudley, you don’t want to look in there.”

“The hell I don’t!” 

A scuffle broke out behind her, Hermione didn’t have to look to know what was happening. Dudley was trying to get past Harry, and naturally Harry was resisting. 

“Let me in there right now, or I’ll rip your throat out.”

Harry laughed, a snarl edging into his voice, “You can try.”

The woman winced and paled. Draco was taking too much, too fast. Dudley growled. Harry snapped his teeth in response. The werewolf equivalent of flipping him off. 

Hermione whirled on them, magic sparking through her loose hair and setting the strands to shifting in a nonexistent breeze. Harry and Dudley, both a sneeze away from going furry, froze and eyed her warily.

“Orange Juice.” Hermione snapped.

“What?” They asked together.

Hermione pushed between them. Their backs smacking the walls in their haste to get out of her way. “We need orange juice! Right now! And someone find my father.”

Harry darted into the kitchen and returned with a nearly full jug of orange juice. He handed it to Hermione warily. She raised an eyebrow at him and went into the bedroom. Approaching the bed warily, she handed the jug to the woman.

“Drink it slowly and try not to move until my father get here. We’ll get him off you.”

“Thank you,” She took the jug and shakily tipped it to her mouth. 

~oOo~

“Quick thinking there with the juice.” Lucius said as he opened a bag of O+ blood and poured it into a glass tankard. Waving the cup under Draco’s chin slowly; wafting the top of the cup toward his nose. Draco pulled away from the woman's arm and snatched the tankard out of Lucius’ hands. 

Hermione lunged forward. Catching the woman as her knees buckled. Dudley hovered in the doorway, waiting to take his packmate out. 

“Easy there, I got you.” Hermione pulled her arm over her shoulder and helped her gain her feet. Together they made their way to Dudley. Who scooped her up and away from Hermione without so much as a “by-your-leave.” 

“Get Harry to grab a blood replenishing potion out of my storage room for her!” Hermione called to their retreating backs. 

“Don’t mind him.” Lucius said, opening a cooler and retrieving another blood bag. “He’s worried about his pack. It's his responsibility to keep them safe and Draco got to her right under his nose. Not that I blame Draco, Werewolf blood is _ delicious. _”

Hermione scrunched her nose, scooted around the cooler, and sat in one of the armchairs at the foot of the bed. 

“Is it all the same type?’ She nudged the lid shut with her toe.

“No. Well, it's all positive but the flavors range from O+ to AB+.”

“Why only positive blood types?”

“They taste the best. Full bodied with herbal notes. This donor was an avid tea drinker.” He lifted the bag to his nose and inhaled deeply, “And rather fond of red meat. I can almost taste the steak they indulged in.”

“Thank you for that glorious visual.” Hermione suppressed a shudder and changed the subject. “Is Draco going to be alright?’

“Yes. He’s drinking, which is a good sign, and I can hear his body healing. I’d say another day or so and he’ll be back to his normal self. Sooner if we can get another werewolf or two to donate their blood and time.”

“I don’t think we have another day or so.” Hermione frowned. “Bellatrix didn’t say exactly when she’d be back. Just a vague two days time, bullshite.”

Lucius hummed and pulled a shot glass from the cooler and pours himself a dark red drink. Hermione scrunched her nose and closely examined her nails. Blue would be a nice colour for them. Bright, happy sky blue. About as far from red as one could get. Unless she counted white, but it wasn’t a good look for her. Blue or purple nails suited her much better. Maybe even a sparkly polish. Hmm. 

Draco tossed his empty bag on the floor and made a grab at Lucius’. 

“Ah, ah! What's the magic words?”

“Now.” Draco growled, leaning over without putting weight on his bandaged shoulder. 

Hermione laughed. Draco and Lucius eyed her warily. Her laughter bubbled over and hit hysterical notes. She doubled over clutching her sides, unable to stop. Nothing truly changed. Sure they may have grown up and into their own legacies, but Draco demanding things instead of saying a simple “please,” stayed the same. 

Gasping for air she slowly sat up. Draco was a quarter way through his second bag and Lucius had finished his shot. Hermione calmed in stages, gaining her breath, then giggling randomly until she exhaled through her nose in soft huffs. She sat back in the chair and rested her feet on the edge of Draco’s bed. Head tilted back she stared at the ceiling.

“Why does Bellatrix want me to join her? Why now, after all these years is she suddenly interested in me?” 

“That,” Lucius steepled his fingers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Is an excellent question. But first-”

“I swear on all that is holy if you say, “Let me take a selfie,” I will hex you bald for a _ year. _”

Lucius gaped, horrified. “Absolutely not! Do you honestly believe me to be so immature that I-”

“Yes.” Hermione cut in, her voice icy enough to drop the temperature in the room. “But please, do go on being dramatic. It’s not as if my life and those of your grandchildren hang in the balance.”

Lucius furrowed his brow and curled his lip. “A little levity goes a long way. You know I adore my grandchildren! Do not accuse me of not caring. I am _ not _your mother.”

Hermione reeled as if slapped. Lucius’ cheeks flushed. He plowed on.

“When you were six months old she dumped you on my doorstep. We spent the better half of a month together before she came to retrieve you. I fought her, tried to get her to leave you with me. But no. She couldn’t be swayed. The next time I saw you was when I broke into her house. For the next year I had to break in, in order to see my daughter.”

Hermione shifted her feet off the bed and onto the floor. Draco slowed his slurping.

“When you were sixteen months old I broke into an empty house. It was my worst fears come to life. Your mother had absconded with you to who knows where. But I had kept a vial of your blood.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out a thin chain with two tiny vials on it. Both filled with a thick red fluid. “I keep a vial from both of you; just in case. I tracked you down to the middle of a ritual circle. Bellatrix had her entire coven out, and was using you as a vessel to summon a demon. I hadn’t known then, that she had already bonded with one.”

Hermione clamped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide. She could see both Harry and Dudley hovering in the doorway behind her fathers chair, shock written plainly on their faces. Draco lowered his arms, blood forgotten in his building horror.

“She was holding the chalice to your still human lips when I interrupted. I slaughtered half her coven on my way to you and when the chanting turned to screams, she had to stop the ritual. I took you that night, and told her that if she ever came for you again I would do the world a favor and rip her heart from her chest. We’ve had over twenty years of peace, and now she has returned.”

They labored under heavy silence. The weight of Lucius’ words hanging over them like the Sword of Damocles. 

Harry opened his mouth, closed it and whirled toward the door. He and Dudley exploded upward into their half forms, lips curled in vicious but silent snarls. Mere seconds later the doorbell rang.

“Speak of the devil and she rings the doorbell.” 

~oOo~

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Bellatrix cackled and rang the doorbell again. 

Hermione flung the door open and charged through it. Shoulders square and wand at the ready. She leveled it at Bellatrix and snarled, “Get off my lawn!”

Bellatrix cackled again. “Oh how fun! My baby grew a backbone while Mummy was away! Oh and she brought friends!” Bellatrix flung her arms wide, “So did I.”

Grey Smoke billowed from Bellatrix’s fingers, curling around and behind her. Figures took shape within it. Wearing thick cloaks despite the mid afternoon sun, with the hoods pulled to obscure their faces. 

“Shall we play now deary, or later?” 

The coven behind her moved as one, planting their feet shoulder length apart and drawing their wands.

Hermione wanted to set Bellatrix on fire and watch her burn. Let her screams wash away all the fear and hate and worry that filled herself. It would be so easy to twist her hand and cast incendio. Almost like tossing a piece of trash into the bin. Would setting her ablaze be enough or should she build a pyre first? Decisions, decisions.

Harry and Dudley flanked her. Their muted growls felt but not heard. If she chose to fight they would charge right in with her. But Lucius and Draco would be dragged into it as well. Draco wasn’t well enough to fight yet, but her father would die to protect him. And, Hermione realized abruptly, die they would. With their backs to the house and a small army in front of them. The front yard wasn’t a good place to make a stand. 

“Well?” Bellatrix snapped, “I haven’t got all day!”

“Tomorrow Noon. Box Hill Trail.” 

Bellatrix clapped her hands together and raised them over her head. “It's a date.”

~oOo~


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Draco and Lucius on her left, and Harry and Dudley on her right she faced her warriors. A leader would have a speech prepared. It would be moving and heartfelt. All who listened would be pumped up for battle. The echoes of promised glory ringing in their ears. Revenge and Courage singing in their blood. They would cheer and march into battle.   
Hermione wasn’t that leader.   
“Lets kick some demon ass!” She pumped her fist and her assembled warriors roared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Dedicated to NicoleisHermione. Thank you for the amazing reviews and fic recs!!

**Chapter 11 **

Box Hill Trail was a small, often overlooked national park. In all the years Hermione had visited, the park had never, not once, had more than four cars in the car park and roughly ten people in attendance. Total. Naturally on the  _ one _ day she needed the park, it was packed full. 

Hermione brushed the hair off her sticky forehead and glared up at the clear blue sky. Yesterday the forecast predicted wind and possibly rain. Today Hermione wished, and searched for a least a few clouds. But the skies were clear and bright and beating down upon them with the rage of a thousand Sun Gods. She was marching to a war party with a small company of werewolves, and her brother as an honor guard. Surely the gods, should they exist, would bless them with a slight breeze to stir the cloying humidity. But no. Hermione was not beloved of the gods, the weather or even the local covens of witches.

Seeing as the covens had opted to join Bellatrix and use children as Demonic Vessels… At least the local covens vapid hatred of her made sense. She dominated the market when it comes to potions, charms and first borns. After that what was left for the witches to do? Cursing, weather manipulation, and apparently summoning Demons. 

When she finished dealing with her mother she was going to find the witch's hideout and utterly destroy them. Then she was going to hunt down the local weatherman and kick his skinny arse. “Wind and rain,” her arse. It was sunny and perfect for just about anything aside from battle.

Also if the sheer amount of people present in the car parks were anything to go by, then it wasn’t a good idea to wage magical warfare during daylight hours. A fact her mother’s messenger had informed them of a few hours earlier. As well as suggesting a meeting to discuss the change in venue. Hermione fumed and dripped sweat as she left the crowd behind and finally spotted her mother.

Bellatrix was clad head to toe in black. A wide brimmed hat kept the sun off her face, a thin mesh veil dripped from the rim. Thick lace covered her pale shoulders, trailing down over her arms and melding to the side of her corset. The skirt she wore flared at the hips and flowed in the currents of her magic. The entire ensemble was a meld of beekeepers and gothic renaissance. 

Draco snorted and Hermione fought the answering chuckle heroically. One day epics would be written about her struggle and sung in the halls of Kings. Bards would flow forth and spread her legend to the far corners of the world. And if Draco didn’t stop huffing she was going to send him right back into his deathbed. 

“Well, well, well.” Bellatrix said softly, as she gestured at the sky. “Did you forget about the vampires or do you simply not care?”

Hermione said nothing. 

“Oh the silent treatment?” Bellatrix placed a hand on her hip and leant forward slightly, wagging a finger in Hermione's face. “Don’t look at me with that tone of voice missy! I’ll take away your phone and ground you!”

Hermione scoffed. She didn’t cross her arms over her chest but it was a near thing. 

“No?” Bellatrix pouted for a moment then smiled, “Oh well. Worth a try. Tell me daughter, why do you oppose me so?”

“Lets see,” Hermione counted off her fingers, “One, you use children as sacrifices for demonic possession. Two, you’re literally insane. Three, you nearly killed my brother. Four, you threatened the lives of my children. And five, because you  ** _threatened_ ** the lives of my children! There is nothing you could say or do that would ever sway me to your side.”

“Fair enough.” Bellatrix shrugged and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “When I scouted this place last night it seemed ideal. Lets not allow a few Muggles to spoil our fun. What do you say we come back after sunset? I’ll bring the fire, you bring the meat. It’ll be fun.”

~oOo~

The humidity hadn’t abated with the setting of the sun. But at least all the innocent bystanders were gone. Hermione watched her people exit their cars, vans and in the vampires case, a yellow school bus. She carefully filed the idea of vampire field tips away for later use. 

Quiet conversations popped up as armor was donned and weapons double checked. Her own armor already in place, Hermione slipped her twin daggers into her back pockets. She had spent the morning sewing the sheaths into place and charming them to both conceal her weapons, and allow them to move with her. The last thing she needed was to stab herself in the thigh. 

The werewolves collectively stripped. Some shifted directly into their wolf forms, others pulled on gym pants. None of them wore shoes or shirts. The females either wore sports bras or loose shirts, their choice in attire left entirely up to them. A fact Hermione agreed with fully. Dudley, still human, wove through his pack, speaking to each member as he went. Hermione couldn't hear him, but the hand he placed on their shoulders or the undivided attention he gave them, spoke volumes.

Harry kept himself separate from the pack. Choosing instead to linger next to Hermione. She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him and hold on for dear life. But this was her fight, and these were her warriors. She couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not even of the flesh. So she stood close enough for their fingers to brush and hoped that it was enough. 

Draco and Lucius finished their rounds through the seethe and sauntered over to join her and Harry. 

“Are you sure you should be here tonight Draco?” Hermione whispered as they drew near.

Draco raised a brow and grinned, showing off his still too big fangs. “And miss riding into battle at your side? My sister you wound me.”

“Fuck off.” Hermione laughed. It came out too much like a sob. She stepped into his space, acutely aware of Lucius and Harry moving to block them from view. Draco lowered his head and touched his forehead to hers. 

“I love you.”

Hermione took a shuddering breath, “I love you too.”

Draco kissed the top of her head and traded places with their father.

“Be safe.” Lucius said as he pressed his forehead to Hermione's. 

“You too.”

Lucius and Harry swapped out. Harry wrapped both arms around her. Hugging her so tight that she could barely breathe. She could spend forever in that moment. All too soon he let her go. He brushed his lips over hers and stepped away too fast for her to react.

It was time. She needed more time. 

With Draco and Lucius on her left, and Harry and Dudley on her right she faced her warriors. A leader would have a speech prepared. It would be moving and heartfelt. All who listened would be pumped up for battle. The echoes of promised glory ringing in their ears. Revenge and Courage singing in their blood. They would cheer and march into battle. 

Hermione wasn’t that leader. 

“Lets kick some demon ass!” She pumped her fist and her assembled warriors roared.

~oOo~

Hermione froze as a pulse rolled over the battlefield. She squinted at the ground as yet another pulse began to roll. Thin, shimmering bronze, lines took shape. As if made of glitter and magic they formed with each pulse and became more and more solid. Hermione stood untouched in the midst of the battle, watching the magic lines become bolder. 

The pulses came with alarming frequency. How did no one notice the lines?! Shining and nearly solid, Hermione had no choice but to intersect one as she dodged a curse. It didn’t sting, burst into flame or even slightly tingle. She stepped through it again, and still nothing. 

She crouched and pushed with her magic, channeling it down her arm and onto her hand. Coating it like a glove, Hermione tapped the line. It latched onto her hand and tugged. Pulling her to her knees and sending a pulse rocketing through her. 

For a moment she could see the entire battle in her mind's eye. Harry, in half form, picked up a woman by the throat, snarling as she sank a knife into his forearm. He tightened his grip and shook her violently. Snapping her neck.

Draco and Lucius fought side by side. Draco carried two war axes, the blades sloping down around the handle. He could hack and slice with them. Hermione had never seen anything like them before. Lucius used a xiphos sword. Double edged and a bit on the long side, he slashed and stabbed alongside his son. The two of them moving in sync. They probably sparred together regularly. 

Dudley roundhouse kicked a man in the side of the neck. Killing him instantly. He was bare chested and wore only a pair of cheap shorts. Easier to tear if he shifted up into half form. Blood coated his arms and chest. Impossible to tell if it was all his. 

Hermione snapped back into herself, still tethered to the line. Another pulse rolled over her and she was above it. Looking down on the glowing lines and falling bodies. She screamed but no sound escaped. The magic dropped her back into her body and Hermione screamed again. Sending her own pulse of magic into the fray. 

The field was a ritual circle. And every death on it a sacrifice. 

She stood locked in a half crouch, coils of her magic swirling around and through her. The similar yet foreign ritual magic sucked on her palm like an overgrown leach; pinpricks of pain roving across her palm, opening and closing like a mouth. The waves came with an alarming frequency, no longer carrying her with it. She was both relieved and concerned. 

The fighting seemed to ignore her, vampires and werewolves surging against Bellatrix’s cultists. Bodies clashed all around her, but they didn’t see her. She was a part of the ritual now, whether she liked it or not. 

Hermione strained and pulled herself up. Each movement a jagged edge being scraped over her nerves. She panted, breaths short and hissing. Slowly, lightning lancing through every single muscle in her body, she straightened her legs. Her back stayed hunched, keeping her palm connected to the ritual’s vein. 

Following the current she made her way deeper into the fray. If she was exempt from the fighting due to her contact with the ritual, then the fulcrum of it must also be exempt. Clenching her jaw, she pushed the burning ache in her lower back, out of her mind. Death and blood and desperation painted everywhere she looked. She needed to stop it. To end it all once and forever. 

Her heart clenched.

Could she do it? Follow the magical zipline into the very heart of the beast and slay it? She swallowed thickly. Mouth and throat dry. She had to. The other option was to lay down and die. Fight or flight, it wasn’t that simple. Fear for herself held no place in her mind. She feared for her children. Tucked away somewhere with their Great Aunt and a mixed squad of Vampires and werewolves. But how long would they stay and protect her babies, if both their leaders fell? 

A ward rose before her. Dislodging her worries and the questions she had no possible answers for. Hermione pulled on the ritual magic, coating herself in it. Hoping that she’d be able to dislodge after. And squeezed through the ward with a soft pop. 

The magic holding her snapped taunt and crumbled. Leaving her palm cold and echoing with pinpricks of pain. Hermione hovered at the ward. The air around her clear and magically moot. Thick, healthy grass spread out under her feet. Untouched by blood. But not by death.

Ron’s body, a withered husk of his former self, was slumped on the ground just in front of her. Discarded like an unwanted raisen. The color had been leached out of him, leaving him waxy and grey. Even the vibrant orange of his hair was gone to grey. 

“Can’t abide a traitor to live.” Bellatrix lounged in a patio chair of all things. The veins of the ritual flowing into her. A lit cigarrillo held delicately between pointed nails. 

“Shouldn’t it be, “can’t suffer a  _ witch _ to live?”” Hermione stepped over Ron’s husk without sparing him a second glance. 

“You say witch like its a bad thing, darling.” Bellatrix smirked, smugness radiating off her in waves. “Do you not like being one? I can change that for you.”

Hermione took another step forward, hooking her thumbs into her belt loops she tucked her hands into her back pockets. “I don’t understand why everyone wants to change me. Father wishes me to join his legion of the damned, and you want me to forsake everything and bond with a creature from the depths of hell. No one ever stops to ask what  ** _I want_ ** .” Hermione pouted and slouched her shoulders.

Bellatrix scoffed. Taking a long drag of her cigarrillo she drawled, “So this is what your father raised you to be? Whiny and entitled. If I wanted an entitled brat I would have kept Weasley around. No matter, I’ll tear you apart and rebuild you in my image. A bit more work than I was hoping for but, ah.” She sighed wistfully, “At least it will be bloody!”

She lunged. Hermione sidestepped, drawing twin draggers from her back pockets. Each blade the length of her forearm. The lawn chair lay on its side between them. Hermione adjusted the grip on her daggers, so that the blades pointed down on the outside of her arms. Like shiny armguards. Bellatrix cackled, eyes alight with mad glee. Silver vapours wafted over her nails. 

Hermione bared her teeth in a feral grin. Her mother couldn’t risk changing shape, and Hermione couldn’t use magic. That was fine. She’d spent years learning to fight. Both with and without magic. 

~oOo~

“Tell me something,  _ mother- _ ” Hermione spat the word, “Am I all you’d hoped I’d be?”

Bellatrix raised a brow, shoulder twitching. Hermione lunged. Flipping the daggers forward, she focused on Bellatrix’s right side. Her mother swayed left. Hermione stepped up onto the lawn chair, pushed off and hammered a kick into Bellatrix’s ribs. 

Bellatrix turned into it. Her hands blurred as they latched around Hermione’s ankle. Airborn, Hermione couldn’t dislodge her mothers hold. Bellatrix spun and let go. Hermione’s back slapped the ward. She hit the ground. Gasping, she struggled to her feet. Back crunching as she stood. Daggers miraculously still in hand.

“Is that all you got?” Hermione rolled her shoulders, “Cause I can play all day.”

She charged. Boots slapping the ground, fire in her lungs. Bellatrix curled her hands into claws and slashed. Hermione dropped, sweeping her leg out and taking Bellatrix’s out from under her. Bellatrix snarled and flipped onto her front, skittering on all fours she cackled. Hermione reared back as her mother advanced. 

There was nothing human in the way her mother moved. Supporting herself on her fingers and toes she scurried, body almost coiling between each lurching step. The rational part of her brain shut down as fear punched her in the gut. Hermione stumbled backward. Bellatrix pounced. 

They hit the ground in a tangled heap. Bellatrix pinning her hands, and daggers, to her sides. She licked the blood and sweat from Hermione's cheek. 

“Tell me daughter, am I all that you wished for?” Head snapping down she sank her teeth into Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione screamed and bucked. Bellatrix flinched, hands raising to protect her ears.

Hermione brought her hands up. Dropping a dagger she reached around Bellatrix’s shoulders and pulled her down into a hug. Burying her second dagger in her mother’s chest.

She felt Bellatrix’s heart beating around the knife. 

“No.” Hermione whispered into Bellatrix’s ear, “I never even thought of you.” 

Bellatrix chuckled once and gasped. Her heart shuddered around the blade once more. Hermione wiggled out from underneath her and rolled Bellatrix onto her back. It was over. At last. 

Hermione hugged her knees, rocking back and forth. Her eyes burned and throat tried to close. She took heaving gulps and tried not to cry. Why would she cry for a mother who didn’t want her? Who tried to kill her multiple times? Why did it hurt so much?

“Was that supposed to hurt?”

Hermione snapped her head toward her mother. Bellatrix was sitting up, hand clenched around the hilt of Hermione's dagger. She pulled it from her chest with a wet squelch. Hermione could only stare in horror as the wound began to knit itself shut. Bellatrix tested the weight of the blade in her hand and threw it. 

Hermione screamed as the dagger sank partway into her shoulder. Throwing knives never worked the way the movies made them out too, but they were sitting close enough for that not to matter. Fire burned in her veins, as her mother’s blood mingled with her own. She couldn’t move. 

Bellatrix stood and casually made her way over. Drawing level with Hermione, she booted her in the hip. Sending her sprawling. “This is where you belong.” Bellatrix kicked her in the ribs, “Down in the dirt with the dogs.”

Fire and magic held Hermione captive as Bellatrix advanced. Unable to so much as flinch. 

Bellatrix cocked her head and tutted. “What’s this? Given up already?” She rested her foot on Hermione's bent knee. “No wonder the werewolf likes you so much, you submit like a little bitch the moment things get hard.” Bellatrix stomped. 

Hermione’s knee popped and crunched. Her scream strangled in her throat as Bellatrix knelt directly on her ruined knee. 

“Hush little baby don’t you cry.” Bellatrix crooned softly, wiping tears from Hermione's cheeks. “Mama’s going to make it all better.”

Her hands ghosted over her cheek, across her jaw and around her throat. 

“Shhhh. Rockabye baby, in the tree top…” Her fingers tightened. “When the wind blows-”

Deep inside Hermione something snapped. The fire and magic that held her so tightly a moment before, washed over and through her. Warmth tingled through her veins. She grabbed Bellatrix’s wrists. 

“-the cradle will rock.” Bellatrix kept singing.

Hermione curled her body tighter back touching the ward. Black spots swirled before her eyes. Hermione latched onto the magic of the ritual and pulled. It came. 

Bellatrix jerked her hands away from Hermione’s throat. Hermione gasped, and tightened her grip on her mother’s wrists. She pulled more and more magic into herself. Breathing became easier. Her knee knit itself back together. The world turned gold. 

Hermione hovered in the center of the ritual. Hair floating around her head like a dark halo. Power flowing through her veins, the likes of which she had never known before. Below her the ritual was solid and thrumming. She spread her arms and let loose a cry of pure joy. This was  **living! This was POWER! **

The fighting stopped. She felt the moment death stopped flowing into her. She frowned and cast her gaze upon the battlefield. Half the combatants dropped to their knees, hands raised toward her in supplication. The other half gaped at her. Frozen in awe or fear. It mattered not to her. 

A black wolf tipped his head back and howled. Despair plain in his voice as he cried grief into the night. How dare he disrupt her worship?! How dare he not bend over backwards to please her! 

She was a Goddess. She was Power. She was Magic incarnate. She was-

Not herself. Hermione lowered her arms slowly. Was this not what she was supposed to become? 

She let go of the magic pouring into her and dropped from the sky. Too fast. She screamed. And her wolf leapt forward and caught her. They touched down gently. Hermione was bleeding magic, eyes growing heavy. Everything hurt. 

“Harry?” She croaked, throat burning. 

“I got you love.”

“Bell- bella-?” she could barely hold her head up, eyes drooping shut. 

“Dead. She’s next to Ron, a dried out husk.”

“Oh, she’s my mom.”

“I know, love. Sleep Hermione. I’ve got you.”

~oOo~


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have reached the end. I want to thank every single person who has read, commented, and left kudos. You have filled my heart with joy and I hope Rockabye has done the same for you.

After the battle things slowed down. Hermione spent the first week recovering and grieving. She was lucky that the only person she lost was an absentee mother, who by all rights was a toxic person to be around. But that didn't take the sting out of the loss. And the very moment her babies came home, nearly two weeks later, Hermione had curled up with the four of them and refused to let them go. Even a month afterward and she was still loathe to be away from them for too long, but she needed her own space just as much as they did. and Hermione knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she'd do it all over again. Anything to keep her children safe and happy.

~oOo~

“Mama, look!” Mia poured a vial of fluorescent blue sand into a small cauldron. Dark green smoke puffed up and mushroomed. Mia laughed and tossed a bright pink vial in next. The smoke turned grey. 

“Good job, Baby Doll!” Hermione cheered from over her own cauldron. Thick, sluggish white smoke spilled over the sides and snaked across the table. “What are you making?”

“A dinosaur potion!” 

“Dinosaur potions? Wow! Tell me all about it.” Hermione stirred anti-clockwise four times, and clockwise once. 

“Well,” Mia crossed her arms and brought a hand up to cup the front of her chin. An exact pose Hermione had seen Harry take when posed with a particularly thought provoking question. “You put the sand in, and a dinosaur come out!”

Mia tugged a tray out from beneath her Easy-brew-Potions cauldron and pointed at a row of tiny, multi-coloured t-rex’s. 

“So pretty! What are you going to make next?”

Mia shrugged and slid the t-rex’s off the tray and into a bucket of water. The sand bubbled, lost its shape and sorted itself out into little piles of colour. 

“What are you making?” 

“Fog. See how it’s spilling onto the table?” Hermione gestured at the tabletop. “Well I have a bunch a holes drilled into this table with vials, like the ones you have, and as the fog moves it fills the vial.”

“Cool. I want to make cats now.” Mia slid a new tray under the cauldron and began pouring sand.

~oOo~

Hermione stood in the middle of her little forest. Arms spread wide and head tilted back, letting the morning sun bathe her face as it wove through the trees. She held her magic in check, not allowing it to spill over and spread around her. If her hair moved slightly it was due to a breeze, faint enough to almost be overlooked, but not her magic. She wandered out into the forest in order to be alone. And she was; mostly.

Not as alone as she’d like to be; there were wolves in her woods now. It had been a month since she nuked her mother, and still the werewolves lurked. When she caught them, more frequently than they’d admit especially since she had started setting traps, they’d claim to be there for fun. 

“What a great forest you have, a little piece of the wild so close to the city!”

As if. No, the _ real _ reason they kept slinking around on her property, setting off the proximity alarms and frolicking with the active Stone Guardians. Was because Dudley wanted to stay close. He’d spouted off some thing about pack bonds forged in war, and how wolves need a pack. Even reluctant Alpha’s. But she knew the truth and it had nothing to do with family. Well, not _ his _ family anyway.

Sure Dudley and Harry had grown close again. They were working at letting their wolves out together, runs through the forest, patrols were they crossed scent trails. Sometimes they could even run side by side, with only ten feet separating them. They were making progress, but Hermione kept plenty of healing salve around just incase. 

The real reason Dudley kept coming around was because he wanted to get closer to Draco. Hermione had no idea how Draco felt about it. Her brother, for once in his life, was keeping his mouth shut. Even harry refused to speculate. Leaving Hermione to gossip with her father. Oh how the mighty fall. 

So she escaped for the morning. To be alone with her thoughts. Apparently “alone,” meant different things to different people. For Hermione it meant exactly what it was supposed to. For the werewolves outside of Harry and Dudley, it meant “as long as she can’t see us.” and For her father, who was hiding in a tree to her right, it meant nothing. She could see him, feel his dark purple and red vampiric magic swirling around him, shifting the sweltering air, and she could hear him. Mumbling under his breath about alliteration. 

Hermione chuckled. 

Taking a few cleansing breaths she let her magic pool within her until it spilled over. Hermione turned her hands palms up and let the magic pour from her fingertips. It swirled around her, teasing her hair and coating her skin. In the tree Lucius fell silent. Hermione opened her eyes. The world was painted gold. 

~oOo~

Dishes were by far the worst chore in the entire world. Hermione scrubbed a pan and visualized all the different ways she could melt it. Paper plates were the way of the future, she was sure of it. Now if only they could make paper pots and pans that wouldn’t burn on a stovetop...

“Are you sure that you’re okay, Love?” Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

Hermione stopped waging war on the pan, leant into him and sighed heavily. “No.”

She dropped the pan into the clean side of the double sink and picked out a new victim. That mornings frying pan would do nicely.

“Feel like elaborating on that?” Harry prodded gently, “You’ve been quiet since you returned from your walk this morning. Even your father is quiet, and I’ve never known the man to shut up.”

“I can hear you!” Lucius shouted from the living room. 

Harry ignored him, “Talk to me, Love. Maybe I can help and even if I can't, I'm here for you.”

Hermione rinsed her hands with cool water, dried them on her pants and turned in his hold. Harry took half a step back, giving her room to move. She smiled at him halfheartedly and pulled her magic to the surface, letting it dance over her skin. Gold shimmered over her vision.

Harry didn’t leap back like she expected. Instead his arms tightened around her. He dipped his head and captured her lips. The kiss wasn’t passionate, just warm and comforting and exactly what she needed.

He touched his forehead to hers, “I always knew you were priceless.”

She smacked his chest lightly, “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”

“We will figure this out Hermione. Together. And I love you no matter what colour your magic is.”

“We all will!” Lucius and Draco chorused from the living room. 

Dudley laughed, “Until then though, let's have a family movie night. I’m thinking Balto.”

“YES!” Mia, Greyson and James yelled. Riley laughed in agreement.

** The End… for now. **


End file.
